Seething Remedy
by bulletproofsince1999
Summary: Sherlock and John find a new case that stays open as Sherlock searches for an answer. Mary warned him not to get involved. But does Sherlock ever listen? Not a chance... Rated M for violence, possibly sex and language. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This story is going to have chapters at least ten pages long, maybe longer. So be prepared to read... a lot. Enjoy! R&R Please!**

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Seething Remedy

1: Something different

It had been a year now since John and Mary had the hugest fight over why John wanted to spend more time with Sherlock than with her. He didn't how to explain his attraction to the man, he just loved him. He loved the chase, the feeling of achievement. Mary couldn't give him that.

And then there was the fact that John had found out something about Mary that was completely unexpected. Sherlock had revealed that Mary was a trained assassin, and she didn't hate him for it, but she wished John hadn't found that she wasn't really who she said she was.

John was stuck in emotions for about six months before Sherlock slapped him back into reality where things like this happen all the time. He had complained that this was completely different and Sherlock had said that it was honestly John's own fault he chose her.

John still hated Sherlock for pointing that out, and while his affections for Mary will probably always stand, the ones he had for Sherlock had come back and hit him in the head with a huge slap to the face, saying, "Hey look, there's Sherlock! Remember you had a huge fucking crush on him?!"

John hated these feelings, but he masked them as he always had, yet somehow the Fall made them worse. He had mourned for two years, then found Mary and she pieced him back together, and then he left her.

Then all these cases came flooding back to the boys and they enjoyed them as they always did, but something was off. Sherlock was different somehow.

He still had snide remarks and he was still quiet sometimes and other times he threw a tantrum, but somehow there was something about him that made John's heart almost leap out of his mouth when Sherlock was around. There was something different about the detective that made him more… irresistible? John didn't know.

There was something different, though. John sat in his chair after a long day of work and ran through all the things that have happened since he moved back in with Sherlock and started solving cases again.

All the feelings he had that he would never admit, and the something that was different about Sherlock. That was when the curly haired man trudged up the stairs and flopped in his chair, that purple shirt making it look as if he had a little bit more muscle than before.

Probably did, though. He did after all, chase down and execute all of Jim's men. John caught himself staring and his eyes instantly went back to his own bare feet on the familiar carpet, "Boring?" meaning the case.

"Dreadfully," Sherlock sighed in complaint. John gave an 'Mm' as a response and just stared at his feet, wondering if Sherlock had noticed that he was staring earlier. Sherlock stripped his shoes and socks and lied on the couch.

John decided to distract himself with his laptop that was beside him, charging. Well, not anymore, the battery was full now, but he updated his blog anyway. basically complaining that Sherlock was bored again.

Sherlock sighed and rolled over in the ball he curled up into when he was bored or brooding. John gave up on the distraction, and sat by Sherlock on the couch, "Sherlock," he started and the detective gave a humming response, "There's something… um." He wanted to say it, but he didn't know if he should.

He stared at the curls and wished he could feel how soft they would be. He scanned Sherlock's whole body as he sat up, "John, unless you have something important to say, do shut up," John's legs were crossed as he knitted his fingers together and put them to his knee.

He tapped his thumbs together and pursed his lips in thought, should he? Would Sherlock push it off and ignore it? Or would he respond? John didn't know, as he looked to the man raising his eyebrows at him to say that he should hurry if he was to say something.

"Never mind," he sat back on the couch as his fingers spread across the cushion to steady himself. He sighed, "Just forget it," he always did.

"No, you were about to say something and by the looks of it, it was important, at least to you. Say it," he demanded. John was nervous now. He couldn't, he was going to, but now he couldn't. he couldn't admit the he loved Sherlock more than anyone and anything.

"I-It's nothing," he stuttered. Sherlock eyed him and decided that was good enough.

"If you say so," he shrugged. He pushed John's legs apart and placed his head in John's lap. This didn't help John's case. But he hid all of his feelings as Sherlock sighed and looked him in the eye. "Boring, isn't it?"

"Not particularly," John admitted, smiling sweetly at the man with his head in his lap. John had so many things running through his mind right now, he had to fight the urge to make Sherlock sit up so he could kiss those taunting lips.

"You're interesting, John," he admitted as his feet settled on the other arm of the couch. Sherlock is so tall.

"Am I? I always thought I was a normal bloke," he shrugged.

Sherlock sat up and sat on his knees, "Oh, no. You're so much more. You're John Watson, the best Army doctor that I…" whoa! Was just about to admit some things that were not needed, "That I could trust with my life without a second thought." He said instead of what he was about to say.

John smiled, there's that different thing again. Something off… but John was thinking he knew now. He didn't want to get his hopes up, though. So he just passed it off as something being weird that he'll never figure out.

Sherlock settled again and his curls were so touchable, just right there. But John resisted, he would not embarrass himself by stroking his flatmate's curls. He would just sit there and let Sherlock use him as a pillow until he was ready to move or until John demanded he move.

Sherlock sighed and rolled over so that he was facing John's abdomen. John's heartbeat was definitely about to make his chest explode. He kept his arms spread over the back of the couch, so he didn't touch Sherlock. But God, did he want to.

He wanted to stroke those cheeks and he wanted to run his finer through that hair, and he wanted so badly to kiss those lips that were curling into a smug smile. "What are you smiling at?" John asked.

"You," his voice vibrated into John's leg and it felt weird, but he didn't move. "The thoughts going through your head that you can't control. It's funny," he admitted.

He looked up to John with a sideways glance, "This isn't normal for flatmates or best friends to do, you know," John admitted.

"That's boring. It's just cuddling, it's not like we actually like each other," oh, don't they? Keep telling yourselves that.

"Guess not," he chuckled, trying to hide his nerves. But Sherlock could see his pulse jumping through his wrist and he decided to say it was just because John was being weird again. It had nothing to do with Sherlock, right?

He finally rose, "I'm going to get a shower and sleep."

"Leave me some hot water, git," John warned. Sherlock grinned, winking and making that clicking noise he does sometimes when he's being a real arse. John rolled his eyes.

after a few seconds, he saw Sherlock's head pop out from behind the door, "Why don't you just join me, then?" he propositioned. John sat wide eyed as Sherlock said, "If you really want hot water, you'll do it," he teased. Sherlock decided he was so bored he would admit some feelings...

John slowly stood, and walking to the bathroom, "I won't look if you don't," he promised. "And nothing happens, got it?" he pointed a finger at the naked Sherlock now in front of him. He'd seen Sherlock's ass before, but not all of him naked at once. It was weird for him.

"Who said anything about not looking?" Sherlock grinned. "But I won't if you don't want me to," he shrugged and jumped in the shower first, turning on the water. John closed the door and stripped. Tonight was going to make this so much harder.

Sherlock will be naked in front of him and he can't do anything about it. He climbed in after his friend, and turned around so that Sherlock couldn't see a thing. "This is awkward," he admitted.

"It wouldn't be if you had said what you wanted to earlier," Sherlock pointed out, turning so that he could see John naked behind him. He had his arms crossed over his chest and he was embarrassed. "John," he prodded.

"I won't, I can't, it's not…"

"John," Sherlock teased and ran a finger down his spine, making him shiver, despite the warm water. "Haven't you noticed the odd feeling between us? I have, and it pains me to not say a thing about them. So I decided to, especially after deducting some things about you," he chuckled.

"Yes, I've noticed your weird actions here and there, but I didn't want to say anything because I thought…" he turned to face his friend, "I thought you didn't return the feeling. You know, the whole sentiment being a chemical defect and everything."

"That was before I knew you," he shrugged and the smile had faded to the same bored face he always held. He looked over John's state, aroused slightly but hiding it. He turned around again and was engulfed in the warm water as he reached for the soap, washing himself.

"I love you," he heard John stutter. He felt him step closer and wrap his arms around Sherlock's waist, "I always have, even when you fell. Happy now?"

"Slightly more so, yes," he admitted, handing John his soap. John sighed and they washed themselves as the hot water started to fade. John jumped out first, grabbing the towel before Sherlock could. He stood, dripping wet, pouting that John had the towel first.

John chuckled at the idiot and threw him the stupid towel as he walked out to go get his pajamas. Sherlock decided he would be nice, despite John's teasing, and picked up the clothes and dropped them in the hamper in the bathroom. He finished drying his raging raven curls and dropped the towel in too.

He then proceeded to his room and simply slipped on his night wear, or what he wore when he was too lazy to change. John like the way the blue looked on Sherlock. He looked good in dark colors, especially black and that purple he loved to wear.

John was tired so he didn't even bother with bugging Sherlock, he just went to bed. He was glad he didn't have work in the morning, but he knew Sherlock would drag him on some case. But he was happy his life wasn't terribly boring, as it was before Sherlock came into it.

Sherlock didn't go to his room. Instead he marched up the stairs to John's and plopped down on the bed beside his friend. "I'm sleeping here tonight," he rolled over and curled into a ball as he felt the covers being pulled over him.

"Okay," and then John's arms welcomed him and he kissed John's forearm. John was too tired to protest, but Sherlock's warmth was easily welcomed as he fell asleep. Sherlock eventually followed in slumber.

But that didn't last all night as john had planned it to. He started having a nightmare and woke up around midnight, screaming Sherlock's name, and he woke up in a hurry, bringing his soldier back to the covers with an embrace, "John, it's okay. It was just a dream, just a dream," Sherlock's voice calmed the shaking mess of almost tears.

No, he wouldn't cry in front of Sherlock. He controlled himself as Sherlock had been dealing with John's returning nightmares for some time now. They had been haunting him ever since the Fall. John knew Sherlock was safe, but he still doubted his friend's ability to stay.

"John, how many times must I tell you, I'm not leaving again, ever?" he soothed and John just shivered and calmed himself.

"I just…" he buried his face in Sherlock's chest, embarrassed that he had another nightmare, again. Sherlock didn't mind, he just wanted John to stop them and get some sleep at some point.

"It's okay, I wouldn't trust me, either," he joked. He stroked John's blond hair, it's getting longer. He hasn't cut it, despite his shaving every day. Maybe he just doesn't want to cut it yet. John sighed and his breathing slowed, saying he was asleep again.

Sherlock calmed and he fell asleep again as well. The second wave of sleep lasted until 9:00 that morning and they felt actually refreshed, instead of feeling as though they needed more sleep.

John didn't want to get up, so Sherlock just left him there in his warm covers. But as the sun shone on him, they were too hot and he gave up, walking out to a pot of coffee. He thanked Sherlock for it and Sherlock just shrugged as the sun was shining through the kitchen window above the sink.

"Skip the jumper today, John," he said through his coffee mug, "It's a little too warm for it," he admitted. John shrugged.

"Who said anything about me ever getting dressed?" he grumbled.

"Lestrade did, with a case. This one seems more interesting, too. But we still have time for breakfast if you want to eat," he gestured.

"Oh no, you're eating, too. We're going down to Angelo's and I'm shoving food in your mouth and you're eating," he waggled his finger at Sherlock. "Sherlock, it's been a day, and this case may take a long while. You need to take a break," John complained.

"Fine. I'll eat with you, but then that's it. I don't want to slow myself down anymore than that," John rolled his eyes at the smirking man across from him. They finished their coffee and walked down to Angelo's.

But on the way there, "I mean it, Sherlock, if you don't eat, I'll shove it down your gullet," Sherlock pouted.

"Eating is boring," he stated simply. John rolled his eyes and looked away across the street at a few kids on skateboards. Then he felt Sherlock take his hand. His eyes widened as he looked over to the man who was looking away at the buildings passing by them slowly.

He was blushing, just enough to say it wasn't the summer sun. John grinned as people stared and some were even fangirling over the friends. Couple? Oh, it doesn't matter, they love each other and that's good enough for John.

It was good enough for Sherlock as well when their hands fell apart and they entered their favorite restaurant. Angelo greeted them and John asked for a table and Angelo showed them to one as he went off and returned with a candle, as he always did.

He still wanted to believe that Sherlock and John were together. Were they? They didn't know, it just happened. Whatever happens next, happens. It was whatever. John looked over the familiar menu and so did Sherlock, for once.

He made his decision and plopped down the menu. John did as well and when they ordered, they realized how different their tastes in food was. "I hope you know, that if you ate all the time, you'd be extremely fat," John commented.

"Why do you think I don't eat all the time. Food like that slows me down. But you insisted that I eat," John shrugged and Sherlock grinned briefly. That was when Sherlock propped his feet up on John's knees and leaned back in his chair, observing his blond's reaction.

He simply sat there and stared at Sherlock with a small smile playing in his annoyance at the fact that Sherlock was using him as a footstool. Sherlock removed his feet when Angelo came back with their food and Sherlock ate all of it before John could finish his.

He simply stared at the blond, licking the grease from his fingers seductively. John finished and raised an eyebrow, staring back as they left a few notes on the table and walked out, "So, about this case," John was the one to take Sherlock's hand this time.

Sherlock laced their fingers together as he said, "It's actually at a park that has a little forest behind it. We can walk there if you wish," Sherlock suggested.

"Sound lovely."

"I know, the idea of a murder in the flowers and running through the woods after a killer, it's Christmas!" he shuddered in excitement as John just laughed.

"That's not what I was referring to, but okay. Sure, let's go with that. A murder in the flowers sounds just lovely," they both laughed. The people staring thought it was a little strange that they were talking about murder and how lovely it sounds, but they didn't even pay attention to the people around them.

They did reach he park, though and they stopped holding hands and just walked behind the flowers to find Lestrade and, ugh, Anderson and Donavan. Sherlock ignored their existence as he studied the body under him.

"This woman was clearly intoxicated," he said as he studied the bite marks on her neck, "And she was with her… companion, when someone attacked her, and she bled out. But that's the only mark on her?" he didn't even have to get an answer as he walked around the woman and deduced that she had bled from her neck. But who would bite someone and drain them like that?

Did he dare believe that there was a vampire on the loose? No, but someone was trying to make it look like such. Maybe trying to prove that Sherlock wasn't as great a detective as he was. Nonetheless, he'll find out. Although the one mistake they did make was taking some of her things.

Like the ring she had been wearing. She was engaged recently. Her boyfriend… no, her girlfriend! Interesting. "I'll text you if I find anything. For now, this woman was wearing a silver engagement ring that her girlfriend had given to her and she was headed home, so that begs the question, where's the fiancée?"

Before Sherlock asked and then walked off, thinking about this, "We actually found those in a bush over there," he pointed. Sherlock nodded, adding that. So they wanted to make it look as if they were sloppy. But why?

He grabbed a cab and John slid in beside him, not saying a thing, knowing Sherlock was thinking and it would irritate him. He did nothing and said nothing except their address and Sherlock settled in the seat next to him.

John loved the way those jeans looked on Sherlock. He hadn't seen him wear them since the few days after they had met and they had seemed to disappear. And the black flannel made him look sexy with the way his pale skin lit it up.

He had one more button undone than usual and John buttoned it as Sherlock didn't say a thing. John never thought he'd be buttoning up Sherlock's shirt. He always… never mind. Point is, Sherlock looked yummy in that and John just looked normal.

His jeans and plaid flannel made him look normal, but Sherlock thought that way John's trousers outlined him was sexy. Especially with the way John walks, it makes the soldier side of him more lovable. The way he walked had stuck because he never fixed the way his hands swayed at his sides, he was so used to marching. It was cute, though. Cute? Ugh...

Sherlock didn't think it was a bad thing, he just thought it was different. The way Sherlock walked was torturous, though. He swayed his hips more than any other man John had seen. Sure, he'd seen the women do that, but the way Sherlock did it was different, yet so much more attractive.

John had never been attracted to men, he'd been around every kind of man there was, and Sherlock was the only one that seemed to be attractive to him. Maybe he had a detective kink he didn't know about? He didn't know, all he knew was that Sherlock was amazing in every sense of the word and he loved that.

Maybe Sherlock should tell John his sexuality, but he thought it might ruin the relationship right now. Relationship? Is that what this was? Well, they live together and they slept together, and they flirt like there's no tomorrow. Were they a couple?

It didn't matter. He had a case to think about and he could tell things to John later. For now, he had a fake vamp to hunt down. This was going to be fun.

John and Sherlock's cab stopped outside their flat and John threw a few notes as they stepped out. Sherlock swung the door open dramatically and ran up the stairs and flopped down on the couch, pushing his head over the arm as the other creaked in irritation from his now bare feet pushing on it.

John closed the door behind himself and made Sherlock move his feet so he could sit. "Why don't you just sit in your chair?" he complained.

"Because you won't join me in my chair," he said simply as Sherlock sighed and his feet landed in John's lap as he asked, "Mind if I watch telly?"

"Whatever," Sherlock waved his hand about in dismissal as John plucked the remote from the coffee table and flipped on the TV. The hand holding the remote landed on the arm of the couch as the other went Sherlock's ankle, where he made circles around it.

At first, he was sure Sherlock would complain, but he didn't. He just ignored everything around him and studied the woman's body again and again in his mind palace. The telly only played crap, but John enjoyed being with Sherlock, so he pretended to watch it but really his thoughts were on the detective using him as a stool again.

The pad of his forefinger became numb as he just kept stroking Sherlock's ankle and Sherlock couldn't ignore it anymore. Besides, he had solved the case anyway. Well, as much as he could for now before Lestrade could give him more information.

He cuddled into John and sighed as John finally put his fingers through those soft curls. Sherlock moaned a little as John just played with his hair. "Solved it already?"

"Not completely, still need more information, but as much as I can possibly right now. Which makes me bored again," he complained.

"Sherlock, it's only been two hours, they won't have more until tomorrow," he chuckled as Sherlock just grunted as he slid into John's lap completely, straddling his thighs.

He looked down on his blond and smiled, "I love you," he said, pressing their noses together.

"Prove it," John smirked. Sherlock grinned as he pressed their foreheads together. Sherlock would love to prove it, but he felt a vibration in his pocket and then his ring tone. They both heaved disappointed sighs as Sherlock pulled the contraption out of his pocket.

He answered, "Yes?"

"Sherlock," he was surprised, "Is John there?" Mary asked.

"Yeah, here," he handed the phone to John.

"You could have called me instead," John pointed out.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you that I'm um… I'm preggers," she laughed nervously, "But I need to tell Sherlock something as well, it's why I called him."

John just handed the phone back to Sherlock, shocked that Mary was so calm about that and that she wanted to tell him. Plus, he knew it was his child, and he instantly felt guilty. Sherlock just looked confused as Mary spouted off things that had to do with their case.

Sherlock slipped off of John and walked to the kitchen, "How do I even begin to believe you?" Sherlock asked, surprised that she was even saying these things.

She sounded as if she was about to cry, "Because I did it. And I knew her fiancée, and let me tell you, she won't be found. She left to America. But, Sherlock. You have to believe me when I say you do not want to get involved in this," and now she was sobbing quietly.

"And if I do?" Sherlock protested.

She stopped enough to say, "Then nothing but pain will come your way. And that isn't a threat," she continued softly, "My elders wouldn't like having you hunting them again," and she hung up. Again?

Sherlock was just awed by what he had heard that woman's voice tell him. He wanted to believe that she was telling the truth, but how could she have been? Especially with what she said being so impossible. Was she trying to protect someone she knew by pretending she did it?

Sherlock dove deep into his mind palace, and his head hung as he searched. John caught him in the kitchen doing this, his phone about to drop from his hand, and John took and slid it in his pocket, not saying a thing as he heard humming and disapproval coming from his friend.

He wished he knew what was going on in that head, but he sadly knew nothing. He didn't even know what Mary had told him. He knew what Mary had told John, and that shocked him enough, but he was sure that what was said after John wasn't on the phone must've been worse than being pregnant.

But how much worse? What was Sherlock digging for? Then his head popped up and he rushed to slip his socks and shoes back on. John was confused as he did the same, about to follow Sherlock out the door. He did when Sherlock walked a few blocks and stopped where there was a man begging.

He slipped the beggar some cash and talked quietly to him about something. John didn't know what it was, but apparently it was something surprising, because the man just nodded as he disappeared into an alley.

"Homeless network?" John asked simply.

Sherlock nodded, "Need to find out some things. Might help the case," and he finally relaxed, grabbing John's hand in his own, "Do you want to just go for a walk? I'm bored and there's nothing else to do. We could go to the park?"

John nodded as they walked to the park and sat on one of the benches there. Sherlock spread out as if they were at home, on the couch and his head landed in John's lap as he let the sun consume his figure. Gladly, he never burned.

He tanned sometimes, but never burned, and he was glad for that. John obviously tanned more than anything, so he didn't have to worry about it. They just sat there, letting people stare and a few even tweeted and blogged about 'Holmes and Watson sitting on a park bench, like a couple!'

Sherlock ignored all of them while John rolled his eyes at them. "Why is two men in a relationship so much more exciting than if someone else was in a relationship?" Sherlock complained.

John was shocked that he was calling this a relationship, but he shrugged and ran his fingers through Sherlock's curls as he said, "Maybe it's because people were thinking it for so long and now they have proof."

"That's stupid," Sherlock pointed out, "What we are is none of their business," he also said.

"Well, that's just how people are, Sherlock. They never keep their noses to themselves," he glared at a girl who was just about to snap a picture, she scuttled along when her boyfriend took her by the arm, waving nervously at John and Sherlock.

John shook his head and focused on Sherlock again. The flowers were at least nice, and there wasn't a dead woman in them. God, their lives were so messed up, and yet they didn't care. Did that make them messed up as well? Possibly.

Did it matter? Not really…

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**There's not much to say except that Mary will probably be a big part of the story, even though she and John broke up. So, reviews? I'll be updating every Sunday... :) **


	2. Chapter 2

2: You Say She's What Now?!

That night John retired late after waiting for Sherlock to come out of his comatose like state, but he didn't. "I'm going to bed," John nodded in confirmation and when Sherlock didn't move, he just gave up and hit the hay.

But then Sherlock came into his room, "John," John groaned in response as he rolled over to let Sherlock in if he wanted to get under the covers. "Is it okay if I sleep here again tonight?" John nodded briefly and Sherlock closed the door behind himself as he slipped under the duvet.

Sherlock liked the way John's bed felt, it was so much better than his own. He curled around John as John noticed he wasn't wearing anything but his pants, but he only noticed because John was stripped in the same fashion. He sighed and cuddled into Sherlock's arms as he fell asleep.

Sherlock listened to his flatmate's breathing become shallow and he himself relaxed. He didn't get much sleep, but holding John was worth it. He kept dozing off, then he heard his soldier shift in his sleep and he was awake again.

He didn't blame John, because if he wasn't in John's bed, he wouldn't even be dozing. He was just distracted. He couldn't stop thinking about what Mary had revealed about herself. First there was the secret John blew up about, then the baby, and now the biggest one of her life… why does she trust them so much? Or is it that she trusts John and automatically trusts Sherlock?

Who knows? But the point was, she revealed herself and made herself vulnerable, because she believed she should warn them. Of course, her warning didn't go unheeded, but Sherlock definitely was getting involved. But how would he tell John?

John has too much to deal with where she's concerned, but he needs to know. So what does Sherlock do now? Tell him and he shuts down from disbelief or just gets pissed and leaves? Or something else entirely? God, this is worse than The Fall.

Sherlock tried to sleep, but his mind wouldn't shut the fuck down. He couldn't stop thinking about all the possibilities with telling John. He also, of course had to 'solve the case', and tell Lestrade something. He couldn't say that Mary had done it, so what does he say?

Ugh, the sun is already poking through the curtains. John is still asleep, but Sherlock was wide awake and ready for whatever was thrown at him. He goes days without sleep anyway, what's the difference now? There is none.

John's eyes fluttered open and he rolled over to look at Sherlock, "Are you ever going to sleep in your own bed?"

Sherlock just shrugged, "Are you complaining?"

John smiled, "Nope, just wondering," Sherlock smiled briefly before planting a kiss on John's forehead. John wanted more than that, but that can wait for as long as Sherlock needs.

Sherlock wanted to do more, but there's a case, and he probably won't do anything else but think about it, which reminds him of Mary. How does he tell John? He didn't know, but John needed to know soon, or Sherlock couldn't 'solve the case' without him finding out and that would be worse than telling him outright.

John nuzzled his nose into Sherlock's neck for a moment then decided he had to brush his teeth, and he really had to pee. So he wiggled from Sherlock's grip and walked to the bathroom at the end of the hall. Luckily when Sherlock walked in, he was just brushing his teeth, and he had already done his business. That would have been embarrassing on both their parts.

Sherlock plucked his toothbrush from the holder and stole John's toothpaste. Watching him brush his teeth was a little amusing. He had weird ways of going about it. John fought the urge to laugh. When they rinsed Sherlock grinned at John, showing him his work.

John did laugh at this, and just ruffled Sherlock's hair, and he had to stand on his toes to do so, and Sherlock scooped him up in his arms, "John. Can I um, can I kiss you?" he had to make sure it was okay, if it wasn't, it would ruin things.

"One thing first, why did you say we were in a relationship? Are we?" he had to get that straight as his hand drifted from Sherlock's curls and down to his shoulder.

"I thought it was pretty clear that we were, so. Can I kiss you?" he asked again.

John smiled, "I have no objections," he admitted. He looked up at Sherlock and his hand went back to the detective's cheek. Sherlock's hands stayed on John's hips and the grip became harder when he got closer and Sherlock's lips landed no John's.

But it was over as quick as it had started, and John didn't like that. He pulled him back down as his fingers landed in Sherlock's curls again. John knew he had kissed people before, so it really didn't matter if John did that, did it?

From the look Sherlock gave, it didn't. As a matter of fact, he looked a little dazed, "It's so different when you actually like the person," he admitted.

"Yes, yes it is. Why do you think people do it in the first place?" he chuckled at how clueless Sherlock was to love. It also made him realize that he had to teach him some new things. He was happy to do that, too.

He patted Sherlock's chest and walked out to the kitchen to make coffee. Sherlock followed, watching John, mostly his ass, but it was nice. Sherlock had never paid much attention before, but now that he had, he wondered why he hadn't already.

Then he thought back to seeing John in the shower. He was so nervous about them being naked together. It was cute, and Sherlock wondered when he'd be able to do it again. Sherlock sat in his kitchen chair, finished with the bathroom, as he went back to watching John make coffee and toast.

That was when he decided he would tell John. After he sat down and Sherlock had coffee in front of him, "John, there's something I need to tell you and you may not believe me, but…"

"Sherlock, whatever it is, coming from you, it's believable."

Sherlock nodded, "Right, well, Mary is a Vampire," he said it quickly and hoped John didn't freak out. He simply ran those words through his mind again and listened.

John pursed his lips in thought, "Okay. Um, what makes you think this?" Sherlock's not crazy, just a little out of it. Right?

"She told me, John. The woman we found dead, that was Mary. No doubt it's because she's pregnant, and needed something. But, the point is, she's a Vamp and Lestrade needn't know," he hid behind his coffee mug as John just sat there, a blank look about his face, "John?"

He stirred from thought, "I'm sorry. It's just, you always said superstitious people were stupid," he admitted. He had always said these things were dumb and dull.

"They are, because they don't know. But I know, and do I really look stupid, John?" Sherlock asked. John shook his head, smiling a bit at the thought of Sherlock being stupid. Never…

"So, why, if she did it, haven't you just told Lestrade?" John folded his hands on the table and stared hard at Sherlock.

"One, he wouldn't believe me, two, it's Mary, John. I wouldn't do that to her, not in her state," he sipped from his cup again.

"Right, of course. Well, I believe you, it's just. Her being an assassin and then the baby, then this, I'm just wondering what else she's hiding from me," he wiped his hands over his face and his fingers settled under his chin, holding his head up.

"Nothing," Sherlock replied. "She revealed all of her to you, and no offense, but look what you did with it," Sherlock said, his normal bored tone, and at this point he was glad Sherlock wasn't being an arse. It helped him not feel like an ass as much, though what John did was an ass-like thing.

"I know," John almost had tears, but he didn't let any fall. Not in front of Sherlock.

"Or rather, you didn't, and you hated it," Sherlock smiled briefly before looking elsewhere. John gave him a glare, but it was the truth, and he hated it. He hated that he hadn't known a thing, and now that he knew all of it, he wished he didn't.

He actually wished he knew Mary as the innocent woman he loved instead of a dangerous assassin that could kill anyone, even him, without a second thought. He also hated that she was stronger than him, emotionally and probably physically, too.

John needed to quit. He needed to be a soldier and shut up, just deal with it all and get through and he'll be fine. It always worked for him to just ignore everything and focus on the black and white facts of life instead of his shades of grey. It worked for Sherlock.

"So, really, why haven't you turned her in?" John asked, in all seriousness. "I thought you didn't care. She did kill a woman," he pointed out.

"You've killed men on my behalf, she was only doing it on her baby's behalf. She needed blood, after all," he stared at John, wondering why he was suddenly being so cold. The only difference between Mary and them was her appetite.

"Those were different, Sherlock," the blogger sighed.

"Oh? Tell me how it was different, John. How is murder different from murder?" John struggled, how was it different? "You should think before you judge actions you yourself have taken. Hypocrite," the detective got up from the chair and settled in the one in the main room.

John thought about this, how could he be so cold? He didn't know. There was also something about Sherlock that seemed to intrigue John. "Why do you care so much, anyway?"

"A friend is a friend, John. I was unaware that you turn on friends in a time of need," he pointed out as John sat in the chair across from Sherlock. Why was John being so mean, as if Mary was suddenly someone else entirely?

But when she had told John the truth, he DID start seeing her as another person completely. She had lied to him from the first word she had told him, and now he couldn't trust her. "Well, I just hope you know, she kills once, and it'll happen again," he said as he got up and walked off to his room. it was true, though. It was how serial killers were born. First, it's a good cause, then it's for fun.

He sat on the bed, waiting for Sherlock to invade his privacy as he always does. But, when he didn't, John laid down. He thought about the many times he had the opportunity to kill a man because of Sherlock, and the few times he did kill someone because of Sherlock.

Was it fair to judge Mary this way? John thought so, somehow. Sherlock doesn't see how her situation is so different, but John does. The biggest and only difference is, the woman dead didn't deserve to be randomly murdered. All the people John killed, he had a reason, and bloodlust wasn't one. With Mary's situation, she could have done differently.

She could have had blood bags, or drank from someone who was already dead. Or something besides a drunk woman who was strolling with her girlfriend. Something… and that was when Sherlock did invade John's space, "John, don't think about it so much. If it bothers you so much, you tell Lestrade," he suggested as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"No," John sighed as he decided, "You were right, she was just doing what she thought was right. Beside," he sat up and cuddled into Sherlock, "Lestrade would throw me in the loony bin if I told him my ex was a Vampire," he let out a breathy chuckle that Sherlock shivered from, as it was on the back of his neck.

He leaned back into John, "So, then how do we tell him the case was solved? We can't tell him about Mary, but we can't tell him we didn't solve it," John shrugged as he flopped down again, this time with Sherlock laying on top of him with his back pressed to John's groin.

Sherlock's fingers traced circles and some other weird shapes on John's thigh as they thought about the status of their currently closed case. "What if we tell him we don't where the killer is?" John suggested.

"We'd still have to tell him who," Sherlock pointed out.

"I give up. The case stays open," he waved his hands about and Sherlock sported a small smile as he turned on John, his hips in between John's legs. He smiled down on the detective that was moving above him.

"You just give up? That's not the John I know," he teased as he was above John's face, his curls framing his head and making him look so much more beautiful. John chuckled as Sherlock's lips played with John's.

Just in that moment, _RIIING_! Damn that door bell. Sherlock got up from John and rushed down the two sets of stair to the door. He opened it to that man he had talked to before, and John followed, leaning on the wall beside the door as he heard the man.

"Well, you were right about the blond, and she has a few friends that were smarter about their choices in a meal. A few of ours _(the homeless)_ went missing, and we don't want to report it because what are the police gonna do?"

"True, true. Well, thanks. I'll let you know if I have any other questions," and he closed the door on the now walking away man.

"Friends, huh?" John asked as Sherlock noticed that he had been standing there, and they were also still in their PJs. That was laughable if they didn't have this matter to worry about now.

"Apparently so," Sherlock leaned against the door as he thought about this. John leaned into him, their shoulders touching. Then Sherlock mumbled something about 'elders' and 'again' and John was confused as he followed the burnet up the stairs to their chairs.

John sat down as Sherlock paced in front of the mantel piece above the fireplace, that has seen too little fires since the time of Holmes and Watson living there. Sherlock stopped, staring at the floor for a moment, then sitting in John's lap.

His hands went up in the air, as he hadn't expected a detective in his lap. But he settled and his arms wrapped around Sherlock as he cuddled into John. "John," John hummed in response, "This case is getting more and more obvious, but the answer is not one I like," he admitted.

"This answer would be?" John asked. There are many answers one like Sherlock wouldn't like.

"To tell Lestrade we can't solve it and leave it open, like the few others we have," and he buried his head further and his curls tickled John's ear.

John chuckled, "A few open cases shows that you're actually human. And I think it's funny," John admitted.

"You're funny," Sherlock looked at John, "to look at," he added. John rolled his eyes at Sherlock's stupid comment.

"Not one of your best comebacks, Sherlock Holmes," he laughed at Sherlock's irritated face. He simply buried his head again and John played with the string poking out of Sherlock's shirt, his fingers brushing over Sherlock's showing skin.

Then John abandoned the string and his fingers played with Sherlock's skin, watching him shiver and John smiled in delight each time. Sherlock couldn't see these smiles, but he could feel John's fingertips and couldn't help shivering under their touch. John was mesmerizing, no matter what.

John was fun to watch, was fun to touch, to kiss, to breathe in, to feel on your skin. All of it, Sherlock couldn't help loving the soldier in his grip. John couldn't help but to love the reactions he got from Sherlock. His fingers glided over Sherlock's back and slightly under his trousers. Not enough to be touching his bum, but enough to be under his trousers, definitely.

Then he felt Sherlock's lips brush over his neck and he grinned. The kisses became harder and John's fingers glided further down, to under Sherlock's pants. But it was such a slow motion that by the time John's hand was completely under, Sherlock didn't care.

John's fingers still made shapes on Sherlock's pale skin as his other hand was plunged under and Sherlock's kisses turned into little nips, here and there. Was this happening, or was it useless foreplay leading to nowhere? John hoped it was useless foreplay, he didn't know a thing about being with a man.

But as Sherlock's nips went back to kisses, he calmed down, and his hands left Sherlock's bum and landed on his back. Still under his shirt, but still. The kisses, though, moved from John's neck to his jaw line, and his cheek, and to his lips.

Little pecks that became harder but still soft. It was as close to bliss that John was going to come at this moment. He wanted more, but how much more? Does he even know what he wants from Sherlock?... Another fucking man!?

Sherlock had little knowledge when it came to sex. He never bothered with it before, it didn't matter. But with John, he had so many things running through his mind. Who was going to top? Who was going to submit? Would they even get that far? Neither knew, just running their hands over one another's skin and feeling the other's small moans seemed to be fantastic.

And this moment wasn't exactly ruined, but it was… compromised as a small soft knock could be heard on the door below. Sherlock had his suspicions on who it could be, but who knocks like that? Someone, he decided, he didn't know, someone he probably didn't care to know.

Sherlock shuffled after John as they descended the stairs, and John opened the door to the small child, "Are," she sniffled, "are you Sherlock Holmes?" her eyes were red from crying and she was standing out in the heat in shorts, a T-shirt and sandals.

Sherlock pushed past John, "What is it that you want? Be quick about it," he looked down on the little raven haired girl.

She almost cried again, "I can't find my mummy," she admits as John sees tears hit the sidewalk. John rolls his eyes as he pulls Sherlock back from the door.

He kneels to meet her lovely dark blue eyes, "Where were you when she disappeared?" he asked softly, brushing the hair from her tear streaked face.

Sherlock shifted on his feet in annoyance, and John got an answer, "Right there," she pointed to the cross walk down the street.

"How did you know to come here?" John asked, despite Sherlock's annoyance with the child. He didn't like kids all that much.

She stuttered, "I- I heard some man talking about you, and he said you lived here. Please help me find Mummy?" her eyes begged John as she latched onto him, in an embrace he didn't expect.

"We'll help you," John glared at Sherlock, "I promise," he looked back to the little girl and held her shoulders in his hands, "And Sherlock will help, too."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as John ushered her inside and he rushed to his room to get his phone. "How old are you?" Sherlock asked as they ascended the stairs and Sherlock heard the clicking of John's cell phone keys loudly echoing through the hall.

"Seven," she said with confidence.

"And your name?" Sherlock continued.

"Aveen," she said, a little nervous as Sherlock flopped in his chair and John came down the stairs, phone in hand, looking at a text.

Aveen? That's a strange name for a child. Oh, well, so was Sherlock, so he really couldn't judge. "Well, Aveen, I promise you we will find your mum, dead or alive," and his attention was turned to John as he didn't hear her sniveling. Wouldn't most children at the thought of a dead parent?

He looked her over and her eyes never wavered as he did so. She wasn't hurt by the thought that her mother may be dead. As a matter of fact, she had only been crying because she was scared of the other people on the street and the cars, not because her mother had left her there. Why, though?

Oh… well that would put a damper on a mother-daughter connection, and she wasn't lost. She knew exactly where she was. John was a little confused that she didn't start crying again as Sherlock mentioned death and she just claimed John's chair and simply stared at Sherlock. Something about her eyes said she was studying him. He twitched under her gaze, he'd never been looked at so intently before. It was a little unnerving.

"Lestrade said to bring her down to the Yard, but I don't know. Should he just bring a few officers down here?" John asked Sherlock, who's gaze snapped from Aveen to him.

"Tell him to bring the least irritating ones and that we're not moving from this flat until she's out of it," Sherlock lazily jabbed a thumb at Aveen and John sighed, texting more. They would just ask Mycroft, but Sherlock didn't want to and John despised the man.

John shook his head as he slid his phone in his pocket, fully dressed now. Just a flannel and jeans, but still dressed. Sherlock didn't bother getting dressed, he wasn't moving from his chair. John sat on the couch, close to Aveen as her eyes studied him as well.

He was used to Sherlock's stares, so he didn't much care, but she seemed to be searching for something. She then looked around the flat, and jumped up when she saw the experiment over there in the corner by the window, "What's this?" she bent to her knees and studied it.

"Don't ruin it," Sherlock grumbled as he kneeled beside her. She persisted, "If you must know, it's an experiment," he huffed.

John rolled his eyes as she looked into the box with the little plant in a pot. It wasn't starving, but it wasn't well off either. "On what?" she asked, tilting her head to the side and Sherlock's eyes narrowed at her.

"You wouldn't understand it if I told you," Sherlock eyed her.

"Try me," she said defiantly and looked him in the eyes.

He shivered slightly at those staring eyes but answered nonetheless that it was an experiment on how the plant would fair on the floor in the light, instead of the window. Kind of like the shadow/light experiment with plants, but this was more of how little light it needed to survive. She was intrigued as she stroked the leaves.

She was suddenly up and running up the stairs but came back down when all that was up there was a bathroom and a bedroom. Sherlock knew she would then run into the kitchen. She was fascinated with all the things in the fridge and the melted things he'd stored in the microwave or the one in the toaster.

John was surprised at how she had just drug Sherlock along as he explained each and every experiment he had hidden throughout the flat. They had disappeared into Sherlock's bedroom where it was neat, but there was still stuff on the windowsill and under the bed…

Then there was an opening of the door and feet on the stairs as Sherlock and Aveen appeared once more. Sherlock wasn't smiling per say, but he was definitely pleased she hadn't ruined anything. Actually, he loved that she was interested instead of disgusted.

There were some things she gave a giggly ew to, but that was the really gross stuff, like the thumbs in the fridge… but she was overall pleased to hear Sherlock's reasoning for all the things he had laid out in the flat.

"Lestrade," he greeted the DI. He waved to the girl now cowering behind Sherlock's long legs and his robe. "Come one, Aveen. You want to go home, don't you?" he prompted.

She shook her head, "Not anymore," she came out and stared at the men in front of her: Dimmock and a few others who were good at their job, and not as annoying as Anderson.

"And why not?" Lestrade bent on one knee to ask her.

"Because mummy has bad juice and I don't wanna!" she clung to Sherlock's legs and refused to let go. Sherlock leaned into Lestrade as he whispered his deductions and Lestrade simply nodded.

"Going home would be better than staying here, I can promise you that," Lestrade tried. She wouldn't let go.

"Aveen," John said softly as he was suddenly on his knees behind the child, "You need to go home. Sherlock and I have cases and your mum can take better care of you," he soothed as he rubbed a hand on her back and she softened in her grip and gave John a glare.

He was surprised by this as she said, "I hate Mummy. I don't wanna go home," she stared into John's light blue eyes as her dark ones consumed his and he couldn't look away. Something about those eyes that said she was here to stay.

Sherlock finally bent down, sighing he pulled her off, "You can't stay here," he wanted to add, 'I'd love for you to stay, but you can't.' He wouldn't mind having someone appreciate his work for once. John did sometimes, if it didn't explode the kitchen.

She looked to the floor in disappointment. Then back to Sherlock and heaved out a breath as she admitted, "I ran away. Mummy had strange people over and they scared me… so I left…" and she looked down at the floor, ashamed.

As Sherlock thought. Mum gets drunk and child runs away because she has party friends over and pays no attention to the child. She practically lives alone. The only thing her mother did for her was enroll her in school, which she has to walk to by herself.

Lestrade eyes widened as he stared at her, "You ran away?" she nodded, looking so guilty. Lestrade rose to his feet, "Perhaps you should just stay here until we sort this out," he looked to Sherlock who shrugged and John smiled.

They rose to their feet as she jumped with joy, "Can I stay?! I wanna see the bodies from the cases!" she jumped in joy as Sherlock just stared at her in utter confusion. Who wants to see dead bodies in the grass? Apparently, Sherlock, John and now Aveen.

Sherlock chuckled as Lestrade lead the officers out of the flat, but stopped to talk to John as Sherlock used his computer to show Aveen some cases they worked on before.

"Keep an eye on them," he simply said as John nodded and the door was closed behind them.

John thought it was a little funny that she had so easily fascinated Sherlock, but there was something about her that was a little strange. But she was a child, and children have strange tendencies. So, John passed it off as her interest in science and let Sherlock used John's laptop to show her some of the cases they'd worked on before The Fall.

She gasped and giggled at the answers to the questions she asked. And sometimes she was disgusted but interested, you know. She didn't like the blood, but the case behind it was brilliant. She eventually moved to sitting in Sherlock's lap and staring at the screen until the dark outside consumed the flat and she yawned.

It was around ten. John decided to give her his bed, and he would just sleep in Sherlock's. Sherlock didn't care that John was sleeping with him, and John said he would take her shopping after he got home from work for PJs and other clothes, and a few pairs of shoes, things like that. Even if it's for a few days, she needs something.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at John's promise but John glared and he just shrugged. Sherlock settled in his chair after John had changed back into PJs and Sherlock simply didn't change. He needn't to. Once Sherlock and John decided she was asleep, they tried to sleep themselves.

"She lives right across the street, I hope you know," Sherlock grumbled into John's shoulder as John shrugged.

"She did say her mother was drunk and Lestrade said she could stay. Besides, I like having a little one running around. It's a nice change," he admitted, looking at the detective who had his arm around John's chest.

John's leg was owned by Sherlock's as he cuddled closer, "I guess so," he said.

"You never guess," John mused. Sherlock grunted and John chuckled.

"Shut up, Watson," and he buried his head into John's neck, his curls everywhere. John's fingers brushed through them as he just sighed.

"You are very interesting, Holmes," he admitted as he started to finally feel sleepy. He rolled onto his side and felt Sherlock get closer behind him. Sherlock did get some sleep that night, and John as well. But the morning after was a little strange.

They woke up like it was any other morning, but they also remembered that Aveen was in the flat now. John scrambled out of bed to find that she wasn't even awake yet. It's about 7:00 and she isn't awake. Aren't most kids up at like the crack of dawn?

Well, apparently not Aveen, "Good," Sherlock said as John jumped from the doorway.

"I thought she'd be up by now," he shook his head and went back to the kitchen. "I have to get to work, anyway. I need coffee," he grumbled as he started a pot.

When he settled and was sipping from the cup, Aveen did eventually crawl out of bed and come down the stairs to Sherlock and John. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. Then she looked at Sherlock and his curls were still everywhere and you could tell he wasn't completely awake yet. She giggled at his hair as he squinted at her.

She just looked to John, then Sherlock, and settled on John. "Well," he said, "I'm getting a shower, then I'm off. And don't think I forgot about after I get home," he smiled to Aveen and she grinned. He then rushed to his room and took the shower as Sherlock just stared at Aveen.

His brain was coming back from slumber as he deduced her, again. She surprisingly slept well for being in a foreign place. She stole John's chair and looked in his cup before sliding it away from herself. "You are a peculiar type of person, Aveen," Sherlock suddenly spoke.

"How so?" she asked, swinging her feet under her.

"You wake up after we do, you don't want to try coffee because he was drinking it. And you seem comfortable here, I'd say even more than your own home," he stared at her still.

"Just because I'm not like the other kids, doesn't mean I'm not normal," she stated. "Do you guys have a hair brush?" she asked suddenly.

Sherlock looked around, his unused one had to be somewhere. His brother had given it to him as a joke, and he kept it, knowing he'd need somehow. He finally dug it out from one of the drawers in the kitchen, and handed it to Aveen. She brushed out her long raven black hair and just stared at Sherlock…

* * *

**So, there she is, Aveen. The little girl that will make everything so cute! Reviews?! Please...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's warning: This chapter gets really smutty, and I have no idea why, but it just does. So, just be ready for that...**

* * *

Three: Damn You…

She just sat there and stared as the brush was put on the table that John had cleared off a few days ago. It was getting cluttered again, but Sherlock tried to keep it clean, for John's sake. And now that Aveen is here, he has to try harder to not spread things everywhere, and for him, that's actually pretty difficult.

John walked out of the bathroom with damp hair and he was dressed, but Sherlock wasn't, still. He grabbed the rest of his coffee and it was gone, half of it in John and the rest down the drain. Sherlock stood as John wandered to the door, going to just leave, he was so bored.

Sherlock followed John down the stairs and tucked in his flannel as he pushed him against the door lightly. John smiled up at him and his lips landed softly on John's. No words were exchanged with this, not a one. They just did this randomly, and both silently agreed to kissing.

But John ruined that when they broke and he said, "I have to go, Sherlock." Sherlock rolled his eyes and gave him one last quick kiss and John was out the door. But when Sherlock whirled around, Aveen was standing at the top of the stairs, tilting her head in confusion.

"What are you staring at?" Sherlock grumbled as his cheeks were a light pink when he passed her. She just spun around on her heels to stare at Sherlock in utter confusion, "State your thoughts, I can't read them, Aveen."

He sat in his chair and she sat in John's. "You are both boys, right?" she asked. Sherlock nodded, "But, then why…" she didn't even have to finish it. Ugh, she was so innocent.

"Homosexuality," he said simply. When she didn't understand, he started explaining everything. well, everything but the sex… but once he was done, "Do you understand now?"

She nodded, "But how can he like you and not other boys?" she asked.

"Even I am confused at that one," he shook his head and she giggled. "Well, I'm going to go get dressed. I'll be right back," he patted her on the head and went off to his room to find something suitable instead of PJs.

He came back out and she was staring hard at something on the desk. John's computer. Sherlock chuckled and plucked it from the table, "Wanna see some more?" he asked, talking of the cases he'd shown her before.

She nodded furiously and he sat down in his chair while he entered John's predictable password and she settled in his lap. Somehow, he liked it when she was around. He didn't usually like children, then again, she was an unusual child.

He showed her the oldest ones of his, the ones he did before he met John, and got so many different reactions, it confused him, yet he liked that she was interested. He was thinking about actually teaching her some of the science/math behind it, but she probably wouldn't understand it. Hell, John barely understood it, and Sherlock explained it almost every time.

Time passed and she ate lunch while Sherlock rejected it and she was like John, threatening to shove it down his throat if he didn't eat something. She was a very violent seven year old, but that probably came from her mother.

He ate a sandwich and that was it. But she seemed content with that, so she ate happily as he choked down food. He hated eating, it slowed him down and he just didn't like having things in his mouth, unless it was John.

The subject changed to something else for a brief while, "So, when's your birthday?" he asked.

She swallowed the last bite of her sandwich, "July 15th, why?" she gulped down her milk, giving herself a brain freeze momentarily. She shook it off.

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders, "Just wondering." She nodded as she slipped from the kitchen chair and Sherlock rushed to the computer before she had a chance to touch it. She just stood there, waiting for him to sit down so she could sit in his lap. And that she did. He didn't protest.

Whilst cases were being looked at once more, he thought about maybe going with John and Aveen to help with shopping, or how John was really taking the news about Mary. Or how he was going to get Aveen out of the flat and to a good family, one who will actually pay her attention instead of leaving her alone all the time. His mind was everywhere but the present, it seemed.

He hated the thought that she was going to leave, but she couldn't stay here. Well, she could, but what child in their right mind would want to stay here? They'd be gone half the time, either that or.. never mind. But still, they'd be occupied with themselves or a case and probably wouldn't even pay her any mind.

Well, John would, he cares. But Sherlock wouldn't pay attention at all. He'd probably walk right past her, on a case, and ignore her as he does everyone else. That would be being a bad parent and Sherlock hates bad parents. It's why he should never be one.

Although, so far, he's been pretty good about taking care of her. Even though, John's the one that cares the most; he cares too much, that's the problem with sentiment. It makes you care way too much more than you should.

Sherlock couldn't really say much, though. He loves John, though he hates feelings, and John's making Sherlock soft again. And he hasn't turned Mary in, because of sentiment. This is going to end badly, but did Sherlock care? Not really. He cared for John and Mary and that was about it.

Sherlock noticed that she was still staring at him as they sat in the chair and Sherlock had finally finished showing her every case he's ever been on and ever solved. He flipped on the telly. He was extremely bored now. He still didn't know what to say about the case. Did he solve it? Or was it open still? He didn't want to tell about Mary, but he didn't want to admit defeat.

Aveen kept staring as he pretended to watch TV, but was really thinking about the case. The answer, and how much that answer may jeopardize him and/or John.

* * *

John was waiting to get home and get Aveen out of the flat and possibly drag Sherlock along to think about something besides Vamps and the case. And as the clock loved him at that moment he locked the door to his office and scuttled out, wanting to be away from the awkward patients today.

He also wanted to see Sherlock, but what person could resist the temptation who called himself Sherlock? John had done well so far, and he hopes he can sustain the control over his teenish hormones before he did something that would make Sherlock regret or possibly him. He shuddered at the thought of having a Holmes boy hate you.

But he couldn't help it. Every time he so much as looked at the man or heard his voice, he wants more. Sherlock is attractive in every way and everyone can see it, even the men who weren't interested. John could see all the jealous women when they walked down the sidewalk and all the men stared at something so weird. John loved people's faces, no matter who it was.

He grabbed a cab and recited his address firmly as he twitched in his seat. Why was he so excited to see Sherlock? What was so different today that wasn't there the day before? Oh… well, that explains a lot. But, John can't just quit his job because he can't see Sherlock all the time like he wants to.

There was also a certain part of him that wanted to see Sherlock when he was shopping, too. As he stepped out of the cab and paid, he wondered if Sherlock would be embarrassed to be with John and a child, or if he would just shrug it off as he does everything else and let people think whatever the fuck they wished.

John liked that about Sherlock. He didn't give a shit if you thought he was a heartless bastard, he only cared about himself and the selected and very lucky few that he kept close. Otherwise, you could kiss his shoes.

Of course, John thought Sherlock had been completely heartless when they first met as well, so he couldn't judge people with that one. No, he was just reserved or certain people. John trudged up the stairs, "Oh, you're dressed. Good," he commented on Sherlock who had been staring at the TV while Aveen was glancing from the screen to Sherlock.

Sherlock flopped his head back on the chair and stared at his now upside down Watson, "Why is that good?" Aveen shifted off of Sherlock and stood in the middle of the chairs.

"Because I'm taking Aveen shopping and you're coming with," he demanded as he threw Holmes' scattered shoes at him. Aveen rushed to pull her sandals on and was skipping with joy when John and her descended the stairs.

Sherlock grumbled as John opened the door and let the (apparently) two children out to the sidewalk. But Sherlock perked up a little as John ruffled Aveen's raven hair and Sherlock stopped a cab. John said an address he didn't think he'd ever say again anytime soon, but this was different as Aveen scrambled in before Sherlock got the chance to.

He briefly glared at her for stealing his spot beside John, but it faded as he slammed the door to the cab shut. John stared at Sherlock's attire and wondered why he liked that purple shirt so much. He even nicknamed it 'The Purple Shirt of Sex'. In his head, of course…

John wondered if Sherlock would say anything if he told him about that stupid shirt. John looked away before Sherlock could stare back and John distracted himself with the flying streets he recognized so well he could probably walk his way to anywhere.

Sherlock stared intently at John's jeans, and how they cradled his hips the way Sherlock wanted to. Aveen noticed the way they basically were drooling over each other and smiled mischievously at the fact that she separated them from cuddling. Then she saw the yearning in Sherlock's eyes and she sat in Sherlock's lap, knowing he would put her off to the side and grab John's hand.

Which he did, knowing she knew. He smiled at that as John jumped, not noticing the almost telepathic looks the detective and the child had exchanged.

Aveen didn't mind being on the outside, she just wanted to be with John and Sherlock because they cared an awful lot more than her own mother ever even bothered showing. And, because Sherlock had explained a lot earlier when she was confused. Sherlock might as well have admitted he was head over heels for John right then and there.

Aveen started humming again as John cuddled into Sherlock's chest, loving the silk of the shirt under his cheek and the heartbeat he could hear pounding; he loved that he could still do that to Sherlock. He could do it to Mary as well, but not so easily. He shook himself from his thoughts of Mary as he sat up and settled for leaning on Sherlock's shoulder.

Aveen smiled at her work and Sherlock gave her a sideways glance and the smallest of twitches were at the corners of his mouth. He liked Aveen, and he hoped she could stay. They'd make it work somehow, wouldn't they? Although, Lestrade is going to insist she be put into foster care. Damn…

They stopped in front of John's favorite place for clothes that his mum used to take him, and he goes every once in a while. They had clothes for everyone, and they were actually a little cheaper than the others. Aveen hopped out, skipping to the sidewalk as Sherlock and John popped out after her.

John took her hand, so she didn't get lost in the crowd of people and Sherlock simply kept her close, keeping John just as close. He didn't like these kinds of places, but he would bear it for John's sake and Aveen's…

* * *

They were finally finished with their crusade of boringness, and Sherlock gladly flagged down a cab in the twilight as Aveen giggled at something John whispered to her. Sherlock didn't care to figure out what it was, he simply climbed in and recited the same boring address and John and Aveen climbed in afterwards.

Sherlock was still pouting at what the woman at the counter had said about John and Sherlock. _"You three are so cute as a family! And she's so lucky to have two daddies that love her so much!" _Bitch, it's none of your business what goes on at home. (overreacting)…

"Oh, come on, Sherlock. She was just complimenting us. It's not like she was intruding on our personal lives," he bumped Sherlock 's shoulder with his own as bags settled on the floor and Aveen giggled at Sherlock's face. It was priceless, him looking like a child who couldn't have the candy they begged for.

He was pouting and blushing at the same time and he buried his face in John's chest as John just laughed. Aveen leaned into John as well, she was comfortable against John. Sherlock glared at Aveen through John's flannel for stealing some of John to cuddle with and she grinned back at him.

She knew full well what she had done, and Sherlock knew she knew. Aveen was a very clever little person. She reminded Sherlock of himself at that age. It was funny to think of him being only to someone's hip at one point. But if Sherlock had had a female version of himself at that age, it'd probably have been Aveen.

Sherlock both liked and despised that she had his personality. But he got over it as his head settled on John's shoulder and John's arm went around both of their shoulders as she leaned into his abdomen. She was so short, and so cute, John couldn't help but love kids. He worked with them a lot in the hospital, mostly because he was so patient, and everyone knew he loved them.

It was the reason he got along with Aveen from the first time he spoke to her. The cab stopped in front of 221B and John grabbed all that he could and Aveen took the rest as Sherlock carried nothing but jealousy of Aveen. He was jealous of a child? Yes, the very grown man was jealous of the child that only stood at his hips and was literally half his size… idiot.

John chuckled at what he could see on Sherlock's face as the taller opened the door for John and Aveen. They stomped up the stairs and John plopped everything down on the couch as Aveen dug through it for something else to wear besides what she has been for the past two days. She was eager to get out of it, "Can I use the shower?" she asked as she brought out PJs.

John and Sherlock nodded from their kitchen chairs as she ran to the bathroom, eager to wash herself. She also had grabbed the shampoo and soap they had gotten her, seeing as it would be awkward to let her use theirs.

They heard the water running when Sherlock said suddenly, "Lestrade is going to make us put her in foster care."

"I know," John sighed. "She probably won't go," he admitted on her behalf. "It's almost as if she wants us to be her parents instead of going home," he pointed out as Sherlock nodded slowly. "Maybe we should just let her," John then suggested.

"John, we can't. We have cases and you have a job. We can't care for her with our busy schedule," he pointed out to John.

"I know, but what are we doing right now?" John raised an eyebrow slightly as he smirked.

"True," he sighed. "It's just, I feel as though we'd be only a little better than her own mum."

"Oh, Sherlock," John started and Sherlock stared, "We are definitely better than her mother," he stated. Sherlock shrugged. Why was John so passionate about keeping her?

"I don't usually like children, but she's not the usual child, is she?" Sherlock asked the random rhetorical question. He didn't even notice he had.

But John answered, "She is quite different. She reminds me of you a little. Mycroft tells me you wanted to be a pirate," he chuckled, remembering that quote. _My brother has the mind of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a detective. Now what might we deduce about his heart? I Don't know… Neither do I, but initially he wanted to be a pirate. _

"Shut up," Sherlock snarled. "Mycroft needs to keep his mouth shut," he pouted.

"I don't know, I think it's cute," John admitted as the water upstairs was turned off. Aveen walked down the stairs a few seconds later with a brush in hand, the towel draped over her shoulders as she brushed out her dark black hair that was now dripping wet and reached her waist.

Sherlock looked to her as her foot grazed the box with the plant in it but nothing happened as she glided past it and sat in John's lap as he plucked the brush from her hand and finished what she started, "I never can completely get the back," she admitted.

Sherlock again became jealous of her proximity to John and just got up from the kitchen chair and flopped down in his sitting chair, ignoring the girl in the cupcake PJs. John rolled his eyes as he set the brush on the table, "Dinner, then bed, huh?" he asked as he looked to Aveen's smile and she nodded. It was close to nine.

John pulled something together to make chicken and dumplings and as Aveen and John munched, Sherlock emerged, stealing some of John's chicken, then simply sliding past them to his room. he finished the chicken as he flopped down on the bed and stared at his clock.

It was closer to ten as it became completely dark outside. Sherlock had heard John tuck in Aveen after they brushed their teeth, as he shuffled to Sherlock's bedroom, probably already in his… okay, so he was still in his clothes for the day. But that was fixed when he stripped them down to his pants, and Sherlock did the same as they climbed under the covers.

"All these distractions are making the case harder to solve," Sherlock complained.

"Shut up, Sherlock," John playfully said as he looked to the closed door one last time before snuggling into Sherlock's chest. Finally, Sherlock wasn't so jealous of Aveen. Sherlock knew John loved him, but he was an idiot when it came to keeping belief in that, and not getting jealous

Sherlock ran his fingers through John's slightly longer hair and he found a few silver pieces and smiled at them. John would hate to know he had grey hairs, but Sherlock somehow thought it was cute. Besides, he only found two, so it wasn't like he was going completely gray anytime soon.

But for some reason Sherlock and John couldn't sleep. "Are you the least bit tired?" the detective asked the restless doctor.

"Not the least bit," he admitted. He smiled up at Sherlock. Were they thinking the same thing? If so, John was definitely nervous, but Sherlock seemed to be perfectly content with whatever could happen. Mostly because he knew a little more on this, but John knew a lot about women, some of it could work, he guessed.

Sherlock traced John's shoulders when his fingers caught the scar John had there. It was so small, yet so big. The hole in his shoulder was just a little bigger than a bullet and it was basically a dent in John's perfect skin. Sherlock frowned at this.

He brought John closer when he felt the back, where the bullet had torn out of his skin, and it was aligned almost perfectly with the dent in the front. It felt a little like cracked glass that was ready to break, but it was such a small spread. Whoever stitched it, did a damn good job.

John hated when people paid attention to his scar. There was even one girl who just left, she couldn't stand to look at it. But when Sherlock looked into those worried blue eyes, he smiled. He just ran his fingers over it again and they continued down John's back.

His hand slipped under John's pants as he jumped and glared at Sherlock, who only smirked as he cupped John's buttocks on his hand. The other distracted itself with John's hair and the combination of sexual contact and sweet touches was weird, but it felt good for some reason.

John's fingers traced Sherlock's face starting with those cheekbones, dear God, they were so obvious yet so soft. And his fingers trickled over Sherlock's lips and the detective couldn't help it when his tongue flicked out and caught one of John's digits with it. John smiled, Sherlock was definitely weird.

They got closer as John gave up and kissed Sherlock, and once this was done, Sherlock had to keep kissing down to his neck, and he left a love mark on John's collar bone before coming back to his lips, playing with them in between his teeth. Just because Sherlock hasn't had sex, doesn't mean that mouth isn't talented.

John's hands were desperately searching for something to do, so he simply grabbed Sherlock's arse and brought their groins closer when Sherlock jumped. Both of them moaned through the heavy breathing that was now stitched into their breath and they couldn't steady it, nor their heartbeats.

Their veins jumped through their skin as Sherlock nibbled on John's ear and pushed him into the sheets, covering John with himself. His hair draped over John's neck and chest as the kisses drifted down, and didn't stop until he reached the band of John's pants.

He nipped at the skin above, and stared John in the eyes, and the gaze never faltered as Sherlock's fingers slipped under the top. It was as if John was telling him to stop and he was defying him, he didn't stop staring into the soldier's blue eyes with his pupils blown wide and his heart racing a mile a minute.

Sherlock's bluish grey eyes were captivating as John couldn't look away and his pants were at his knees now. Sherlock teased John's thighs with kisses and licks, and he kissed everywhere but John's member that was now magnificently standing above Sherlock's curls.

He smiled as he nipped at John's abdomen and John's trimmed and very blond pubes. It was adorable when he moaned as Sherlock hit a sensitive spot. He had never been bit there, and it felt so good.

Sherlock decided to torture John by ghosting his lips over his shaft, down one side and up the other side, pressing a soft kiss on his head. John was tired of being tortured and he moved to where Sherlock was under him in the same way John had been under him, his pants sliding off completely and forgotten.

He licked from Sherlock's neck to his nipple where he teased it in between his teeth (the women go crazy over it, and apparently Sherlock as well), and moved even further down, leaving a love mark on Sherlock's hip and licking lightly. He stripped Sherlock's pants, teasing as they were gone and he kissed Sherlock's thigh and left another love mark.

But he wasn't such a tease as he started on Sherlock's shaft that was surrounded by his trimmed but still wavy pubes. And when he licked down once and back up again, Sherlock gasped and grabbed at John's hair. He pulled lightly on the short hair when John's teeth played with his head until he was dripping precum.

John moaned, knowing it would vibrate from him onto Sherlock as he took half of him in his mouth. His tongue teased as his teeth scaled the shaft. Sherlock was really sensitive there, seeing as he didn't really touch himself as much as the average male. So this, this was heaven.

He moaned loud and John heard his name garbled in there somewhere. He loved hearing his name from Sherlock's lips, it was a major turn on, especially when neither could really breathe. Sherlock felt really tight in his stomach, "John, I'm gonna…" he tried to pull John off, but he didn't move as he swallowed all that Sherlock could give, and Sherlock's vision was shot for a moment as his eyes were squeezed shut.

Sherlock was shaking from pleasure as John moved back up to his lips, where he played with them in between his own. Sherlock recovered and his vision repaired from being blurred as the sweat rolled from his skin and John played with him some more.

John's fingers were skilled as he worked Sherlock to getting aroused, again… but Sherlock wouldn't have this. He jerked John's head back and attacked his throat with kisses and love bites as his hands drifted to John's member, full and warm and now in Sherlock's hand.

When Sherlock started slowly pumping, John's hips lurched from the covers as his back arched and Sherlock's other hand held him down to the covers. His hands left John completely as he realized he didn't have lube… he never needed any before, and it was obvious that John's was in his room, where Aveen was in a deep sleep, (hopefully not hearing any of this).

Damn. John realized Sherlock's dilemma, and grabbed Sherlock's wrist and plunged Sherlock's digits into his mouth. He was already practically drooling. Sherlock's fingers were soaked when he pulled them out again. This better work.

They drifted down to John's entrance where Sherlock's fingers teased the outside. John moaned when he slipped one finger in, slowly, so he didn't hurt the doctor under him. He was throbbing again as he heard the doctors scream in pleasure when a second finger was inserted and brushed over John's sweet spot.

He whimpered when Sherlock's fingers left him completely and Sherlock was nervous as he slid slowly into John, his fingers using the last of John's saliva to try to moisten himself. He was surprised that his length fit, all the way to the hilt, and John sighed, which faded into a moan.

"Sherlock…" it was distinct as the rest was meshed into what Sherlock took as a demand to keep going. He pulled out slowly, and just a little as he slid slowly back in, making sure he didn't hurt his lover. John's thighs latched onto Sherlock's hips as the slow rocking motion never faltered and never became faster. Sherlock resisted such temptations, but it was difficult. John wasn't helping, though, moaning like that, and making Sherlock moan as well. Sherlock shivered as he tried to keep from just pounding into him.

John moaned out commands and sometimes yelped in pleasure when Sherlock brushed ever so slightly over that one spot. John's name was somewhere in there as Sherlock's moans mirrored John's and he was so close, for the second time. Damn…

Sherlock decided he would not be alone this time as his hand grabbed John's member, squeezing as his grip faltered into touches and John joined Sherlock in a euphorically painful climax, and they came together. Sherlock, buried into John and John in Sherlock's hand, and on part of his chest.

Furtive kisses were placed on John's lips as Sherlock collapsed beside his lover. John moaned as he rolled over into Sherlock, panting into his chest and still trying to get used to not having that wonderful feeling of Sherlock inside him. He didn't want it to stop, but it had.

But John saw the mess they had made, "Shower?" he suggested, "If you can keep from making too much noise," he teased. The noises they had both made were a little embarrassing, but this was also new to both of them and somehow, it was so much better than anything they've ever done before.

John pulled Sherlock from the bed and drug him into the bathroom as he turned on the water, feeling it for the warmth that arrived a few seconds after the cold. He pushed Sherlock into the shower as he climbed in after him. This was so different than before.

Before it seemed so innocent, but now it was just full of the tension John unintentionally created by just standing under the spray as Sherlock stood behind him, waiting for John to do something to him. He wondered what John had felt when Sherlock took him. Did it hurt at first? _A little. _Was there really that much pleasure behind it? _Oh fuck yeah… _Was it special, or just another shag?

Sherlock realized he had asked that last question aloud as John wheeled around on his heels and his lips landed on Sherlock's, "What makes you think it was just another shag?" he searched Sherlock's eyes as he seemed to be wanting a certain answer, but John didn't know what it was.

"You're so… casual about what's been done," Sherlock admitted.

"Why wouldn't I be? I love you, and your package was only part of the gift that is you," he smiled. His arms were wrapped around Sherlock's neck as he was on his toes to kiss him again. Sherlock accepted the kisses, and his hands were on John's hips as their kisses stopped, this time, Sherlock almost whimpered at the lost contact.

But he mustered, "It's just that I feel like now that that's been done, I won't be able to please you with the little things anymore," he admitted.

"I'm not a horny teenager, Sherlock. Just because we had sex, does not mean I want it over everything else. Like I said, I love you, all of you, and having sex is only a bonus to the rest," a smile twitched onto Sherlock's lips as he kissed John again and again.

Assured that John didn't want it all the time, Sherlock pressed him to the wall of the shower, all of him was on all of John and John knew Sherlock was getting a hard on, again! How many times…?

But John didn't mind, as a matter of fact, he was half hard again himself. If Sherlock wanted more, he didn't mind. But instead, he decided, he would be topping this time. He flipped their positions as Sherlock's face was covered in water as he could barely breathe in the first place.

His curls were soaked the rest of the way as kisses were planted and the sensation spread over his body as John's hand brought their groins together several times, getting them the rest of the way hard. "Not a horny teenager?" Sherlock breathed as a joke.

"You started it," John accused playfully and Sherlock simply shrugged as his lips were covered with John's and their tongues met in the middle, John getting closer again and Sherlock gripping him hard and making him keep the contact.

"John, how is this going to work?" Sherlock curiously asked, knowing John wanted control this time around. He wasn't sure how the angles would let John do anything, let alone penetrate Sherlock.

"You're gonna face the wall and bend over, that's how this is going to work," he smiled sweetly, despite the order, as Sherlock grinned. His hands were placed on the shower wall as the water slipped over them and John caressed Sherlock's bum with one hand and the other entwined his fingers in between Sherlock's as they were pressed to the wall.

John's fingers teased Sherlock's entrance as one finger slipped in slowly, using the water so it didn't hurt as much. But as John expertly found Sherlock's prostate on the first try, the pain quickly dropped into a puddle of sensations that Sherlock splashed around in and another finger slipped in as John heard moans that had been slightly contained (Aveen sleeping almost right next to them).

He twirled his fingers ever so slightly and pulled them out, "It's gonna hurt a little," he pressed his chest to Sherlock's back, "But it'll be worth the pleasure." Sherlock groaned as John slipped in, slowly and carefully. Both of them let moans escape and Sherlock's ended in a whimper as John bit into his shoulder, trying to silence himself.

It barely worked as he slowly pumped into Sherlock, one hand on his hip, steadying him and the other now groping his shaft, slowly pumping with the pause in between each thrust. After a few attempts, John found what he had been looking for and found before, and he knew he found it when Sherlock pushed into him and moaned John's name soooo loud…

John worried he might wake Aveen, but she had slept through a lot so far, so that worry slipped away as he licked at the mark he left on Sherlock's shoulder. His thrusts were becoming just a little faster as he tried to tell himself to slow down, but Sherlock's next command surprised him.

"Faster," he grunted, "harder…" and John's hips snapped forward.

"Shut up, Sherlock," he breathed on the man's neck, and another loud moan, almost a scream escaped Sherlock's throat. Sherlock was shivering as John's grip tightened and he picked up the pace just a little, to please but not destroy.

This went on for a few more minutes before John couldn't contain what he had been holding back. His vision blurred as the noise of the shower was drowned out and all he heard was Sherlock's moan as he felt something warm oozing into his hand as he realized what had happened.

He dropped out of Sherlock, and pressed his chest to Sherlock's back, kissing the other mark he hadn't noticed he left, "I'm sorry," he mumbled into the pale man's skin.

Sherlock turned and faced Sherlock, "Do not," he warned, "apologize for that. Your were careful and didn't hurt me, what's there to apologize for, anyway?" such a clueless clot, he is.

"But-" he pointed to Sherlock's shoulder where he left a bruise.

"That?" he tried to look at it, "Souvenir," he grinned. "I will remember this, and I'm sure there's more to come. Don't apologize again without a good reason," he rolled his shoulders as he finally relaxed under the spray of warm water.

He grabbed for the soap as it slipped from his fingers, but that was because John had taken it from him and started using it on his lover. "The least I can do is clean up the mess I made," he said. Sherlock rolled his eyes and just let John complete what he started.

He grabbed the shampoo as Sherlock took the soap back and repeated the motions John had used on him before. They continued like this, they washed one another and finished as they dried off and they knew they had to clean up the mess they made on Sherlock's bed.

Luckily, John had done the laundry two days ago and they could simply replace the sheets and throw their clothes in the laundry with the sheets and somehow, one of the small pillows. All of it, it smelled like sex, and that wasn't pleasant to sleep on unless it was right after, and you fell asleep like that. Even then, it's a little weird, or at least John thought so.

Sherlock just wanted to sleep. Getting off was actually exhausting.

* * *

"Sherlock," Aveen greeted as Sherlock's lips were removed and his head from John's neck as his eyes settled on her. He nodded in response as he twirled back to the coffee. John blushed as Aveen sat in a chair, her hair was frazzled a bit, but she looked content as she yawned and her whole body shook, and she greeted, "John."

John smiled sweetly when Sherlock set a mug in front of John and he leaned against the table as Aveen placed her chin on the edge as her feet swung under her chair.

"Sherlock, did you eat any of the cereal?" he asked, looking from Aveen to the figure sipping from his cup and just glancing at John as he shook his head. "Good," he dug out a bowl and spoon and set it down in front of Aveen as he plucked the cereal from the cupboard and the milk from the fridge.

He didn't sigh at the fingers in the door of the fridge, he simply ignored their existence. She got the clue and she made breakfast for herself and munched happily as John leaned his hip against the table, beside Sherlock.

Sherlock moved one hand from his mug to John's waist and brought him closer. John just completed the motion as he leaned into Sherlock from behind and he felt the detective wrap a hand around his abdomen to say he approved.

John picked up his mug as he looked at the time. He had to leave in about fifteen minutes. And to do so, he had to get dressed in not just a robe. Sherlock was in his PJs as well, as they hadn't bothered with anything more last night.

"I have to go," John stated as the rest of his coffee was chugged and he slipped the mug into the sink. He placed a quick kiss to Sherlock's lips as he shuffled to their room, not wanting to do anything but stay at home.

Sherlock sat in John's kitchen chair as he decided what he would do about the case. He would leave it open, and tell Lestrade he had very little clues as to who the killer was and couldn't quite reach a conclusion. He hated it, but it was for the best.

God, listen to him, sentiment was clouding so much. If this were anyone else he would have thrown them behind bars without hesitation. But he liked Mary, and she was pregnant, and that seemed to rule out the fact that she had murdered a perfectly innocent woman.

John reappeared, dressed and Sherlock liked John's jeans, as always. He followed John to the door as he pressed him to it again, and his lips brushed over John's. This time, Aveen didn't follow to know what they were doing.

John pressed into Sherlock's lips and Sherlock smiled as John opened the door slightly as he kissed Sherlock once more before slipping out, grinning. Sherlock recovered from being dazed a little as he stalked up the stairs.

He glanced at Aveen before going to his room and getting dressed. His shoes tapped against the floor instead of his usual shuffle as Aveen stared at Sherlock. He was texting Lestrade about the 'unsolved' case. He hated the words he pressed into the keys, but this would save a friend, so it was worth it. Right?

He slipped his mobile in his pocket as he sat at the table, thinking. Aveen popped off her chair and walked to John's room, now hers, where she and John had situated her clothes and John had moved into Sherlock's room.

He smiled at the memory of this morning and boxes in John's muscular arms, John looked so good in anything. When she came back five minutes later, she was wearing trousers and a shirt that had a teddy bear on it and on its belly it said, "I wuv hugs"… it was adorable on her, but it still made Sherlock laugh a little.

Her sneakers squeaked against the kitchen floor briefly before she sat in the chair again and swung her feet, staring at Sherlock before saying, "Disappointed?"

"What?" he was startled.

"You look disappointed," she pointed out as she leaned on the table with her arms under her chin. Sherlock shrugged. He heard his mobile chirp and it vibrated briefly before he pulled it out of his pocket and off his leg.

Lestrade: **Well, that's rubbish. But, I'll leave it open, in case another murder happens in the same way. On another note, how's Aveen?- GL **

Sherlock replied she was fine and Lestrade said she could stay with them if they signed a few papers the right way and took care of her. **What? Like adoption? – SH** Lestrade replied with a simple yes and Sherlock pursed his lips slightly in thought.

John would approve, but how would they keep her with the way they are? "By the way," she perked up to hear his question, "How much of last night did you hear?" he had to ask.

She tilted her head in confusion, "What happened last night?" she questioned as her little brows furrowed.

"Nothing. Never mind," good. Sherlock shivered with a small smile at the memory of John and last night. But he shoved that back in its place as he decided he would just go with this. They practically took her in anyway. He texted Lestrade that he would sign whatever he had to.

Sherlock took in a deep breath, his snow white shirt expanding with his chest, "This is going to be a long day," he admitted as he waved Aveen off the chair and she wondered where they were going. Sherlock answered the internal question displayed on her features as he descended the stairs and she followed, "We're going to someplace boring but afterwards, someplace fun, I promise," and he never breaks a promise.

He swung the door open and he locked it behind Aveen and she waited on the curb for him to flag down a cab and shove her in, reciting the address to the Yard…

* * *

**I am curious to know what you guys think of Aveen. So, do please drop me a review? :) **


	4. Chapter 4

Four: Leave Me Alone

Sherlock was right, this was boring. Just sitting in an office with Sherlock filling out papers and talking to Lestrade about the current 'unsolved' case. Lestrade wanted details as Sherlock gave all he could without revealing too much. Lestrade had admitted that this was puzzling.

Sherlock finished the last thing as Aveen perked up when she saw them being handed to Lestrade. Lestrade had said her mother didn't even want to be taken to court, she just let Aveen go without a second thought. Figures, she's only twenty something and didn't want the child in the first place.

God, Sherlock hated horrible parents. Which was why he was going to try and not be like her mother. Well, she's not her mum anymore, now Aveen was Sherlock's. He didn't regret what had been done, he regretted his future with raising her. He really wanted to be a good father, but he wondered how this was going to work.

John would definitely be a good parent, but it was himself that worried him. Sherlock waved her from the seat as she skipped after him, "So I can stay?" she asked in confirmation.

Sherlock nodded, "Yes," he replied.

"Never going back to mummy?" she asked.

"Never," he wanted to add, 'I won't let you,' but that would sound weird. She grinned and nodded as she settled and her shoes squeaked as she walked.

* * *

Sherlock took her to get ice cream, promising it wouldn't be boring and he took her to the park afterwards. He needed fresh air anyway, and John wouldn't get home until about five tonight. He hated that job, but the money was nice, so Sherlock just let it go.

Aveen got along well with the kids at the park, something that never happened with Sherlock. Although, she did hang around the boys a lot. They liked her, but she only saw friends. The other four girls just gathered in a group and envied her.

Reminds Sherlock of high school all over again. God, these kids are so different from when Sherlock was younger. When he was her age, he was alone because he avoided people. But he studied them, and usually they split into two groups: the weird ones and the preppy assholes. But at least they weren't like this.

His attention was brought back to Aveen as she was getting ready to punch this one little blond kid, Sherlock could see it in her eyes, she was pissed. "Okay," he pulled her from the blond little git who was little shorter than her. He made her sit on the bench he had been sitting on, "What'd he say?" knowing he had said something.

"He said I couldn't play football because I'm a girl," she complained. Ah, one of those kids. Now, Sherlock had regretted pulling her from the group. Sherlock would have punched the kid, too.

"Do you know how to play?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes!" she shouted as another parent looked over to them in curiosity.

"Well, tell them that, and if they won't let you play, I'll buy you a football and we can play," he promised as she popped up. She hugged her thanks to him as she skipped off to give this kid a piece of her mind.

A woman settled on the bench beside Sherlock, "Hi," she greeted. Sherlock nodded in response. She persisted, "Your little girl is adorable," she complimented. Sherlock shrugged as he saw that Aveen finally got her way, and she was good at football.

The woman didn't leave, "I'm Jade," she held her hand out. Sherlock took it, stating his name and she instantly blushed. "Never thought I'd get to meet you." Again, Sherlock shrugged, watching Aveen show off. She recognized him from the start, it was why she sat here in the first place.

Jade kept up with the one sided conversation, "Sorry about my boy, "She apologized. "His father is extremely sexist and I guess it's rubbed off," she explained.

"Dead?" Sherlock guessed as she nodded, going on about things Sherlock didn't care to hear. He blocked out her annoyance and just watched Aveen play and prove this woman's boy to be an idiot. Sherlock definitely was keeping her. now he had two people he cared about more than anything. Ugh, stupid sentiment.

Jade suddenly fell silent as Sherlock just watched Aveen pant her way to the water fountain, her face red and she gulped helplessly. Sherlock smiled as he finally looked to the woman beside him. Blond, green eyes and not much to her, she had curves, but other than that, she wasn't really attractive. Not ugly, just not interesting.

She removed her ring a few months ago, due to her husband dying. She was glad he was dead, did she do it? There was no way to tell now. But she was definitely still stressed, even with the husband not around to shout at her for not doing something 'right'. She mumbled something about things and tasty as she collected her son and was gone.

Sherlock shrugged it off, thinking she meant food, seeing as she took her son right after she walked away. Aveen was still breathing heavily as she sat by Sherlock again, "Nasty woman," she commented, "Her son, too," she added as she put her head in Sherlock's lap. Her vocabulary is amazing for her age. Sherlock would have to ask about that later.

He stroked the hair from her forehead, it soaked from the water she poured over herself, "What makes you think that?" he asked.

She shrugged, "Dunno. Just have a feeling, especially with the way she was looking at you," she commented. So that was what she was getting at. Jade _was_ looking at him as if he was a meal to eat. But Sherlock wasn't up for the taking.

This brought up the question Sherlock had been honestly, unintentionally avoiding for a while: was he with John? Were they together or just… awkward friends? Sherlock decided he would say they were together. They had all the qualities of lovers, after all.

They slept together, they kissed, they shagged, John cooks for Sherlock sometimes, trying to get him to friggin' eat, they even had a kid. Yeah, they fit the bill. Sherlock smiled as he continued petting Aveen's raven hair and she settled, napping while Sherlock let the time slip by.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

She stirred as Sherlock shook her shoulder gently, "It's time to go home," he smiled as she sat up, stretching. She didn't really feel like walking, so she held her arms out and Sherlock rolled his eyes, getting what she was going for.

But he scooped her up and placed her on his hip as he walked back to the sidewalk where he hailed a cab fairly quickly actually. Apparently having a kid helps. Whatever, he slid in as she settled on the seat beside him.

She cuddled into his chest as he awkwardly sat there, just letting her. He had no objections, but it's not like he loves it that she's so clingy. But her mother was an ignorant bitch so that probably has something to do with it. No, that definitely has something to do with it.

Sherlock hated this woman, and he never even met her! But he knew that if he ever had, she would probably be disgusting as a person. He pulled Aveen from the cab as he found John standing in front of the door, fumbling with something in his pocket.

When John heard the car door slam shut, he looked behind him and slipped, what was apparently his mobile, into his pocket again. He was surprised to see Sherlock with a kid on his hip, but he just adjusted her so she didn't slip and opened the door as she slid from him and ran up the stairs.

Sherlock and John followed as John was still questioning why Sherlock had taken Aveen anywhere. "Sherlock," he started. Sherlock shushed him as he faced the soldier.

"Don't, Aveen will tell you what we've been out today for. It's her story to tell anyway," he admitted as John wandered into the kitchen where Aveen was looking through the fridge and found what she was looking for.

She pulled out the milk and was about to just chug it, and remembered that she wasn't the only one drinking out of it. But she couldn't reach the cupboard either. John pulled a cup down as he didn't ask about the day yet, but he definitely curious.

He did really wonder though, as she chugged the milk. The glass was empty when John moved the milk back to the fridge, "So, Sherlock tells me you have a story for me?" he asked as he sat opposite her at the kitchen table.

Sherlock listened to her version of the story of how they went to the Yard, then got ice cream, and went to the park where the kid wouldn't let her play, and then the woman who was practically drooling on Sherlock.

But John questioned why they went to the Yard. Did Sherlock finally give a statement about the case? What did he decide to do? He asked Sherlock these questions as Aveen sat awkwardly at the table, straining to listen to their quiet conversation in the living room.

She swung her feet in interest when John's voice was full of surprise. He wasn't angry that Sherlock had adopted Aveen as their own, but he was definitely surprised. "Lestrade suggested it, and she already practically lived here, so I figured-"

He was cut short by John's kisses "God," kiss, "Sherlock, you," kiss, "Are amazing," he complimented and then realized that Aveen was still in the kitchen, wondering why they were doing this. She just started humming when John smiled at her, and she rested her head on her forearms on the table. She wasn't tired, just bored.

* * *

John decided he was making dinner again tonight and made Sherlock sit down with them to eat it, too. He had complained at first, but John was making spaghetti, and it was apparently, Sherlock's favorite.

Aveen finished first, loving John's cooking much more than her mum's. "Mummy never had time to make food. She was too busy being out," she swallowed the last bite and Sherlock was angry at that comment, but then it faded and he smiled through the noodles, which was funny, John had to admit.

John finished last, not really hungry, just bored, and wanting something to do before they went to bed. But Aveen hopped from the table, and grabbed the remote from Sherlock's chair in the living room and flipped on the telly.

She relaxed on the couch as John joined her, dragging Sherlock with him. They settled on the couch, Sherlock half sitting on John while Aveen was laying with her feet to her bum and her head on the arm of the couch, as Sherlock does sometimes.

Sherlock gave up on cuddling and one foot went beside Aveen head, and the other hung off the edge of the couch as his head rested in John's lap.

As the night crept up onto the daylight, the clock was hitting eleven and Aveen fell asleep, and Sherlock almost had, but he was kept awake by John's fingers through his curls. He didn't want to sleep, exactly. He just wanted to relax.

So, John carried Aveen back to bed as Sherlock changed into PJs, and he plopped down in bed as he watched John do the same. Sherlock yawned and his head hit the pillows as John slid in under the covers with Sherlock.

John cuddled into Sherlock as they both fell asleep, exhausted by the day's drawn out boring tone. A lot had happened, but it wasn't the best day ever, just different.

* * *

The next morning, John woke to Sherlock already awake, "I have a case," he explained, "And I need you to watch Aveen, I can't."

He lazily put strokes to John's chest as he practically begged, "I can't take her to work, Sherlock," he pointed out.

Sherlock shrugged, "Why not?" John rolled his eyes as he kissed the idiot and sat up. He mumbled a whatever as he slipped out of bed, rummaging through his clothes to find some to wear.

"What's this case about anyway?"John asked.

"Things," Sherlock said, standing beside his lover as trousers were slipped on. John gave him a look that said he'd better explain now. Sherlock sighed, "I'm visiting someone," he admitted, "and I'd rather not have Aveen there," he further explained.

"Who?" John asked, buttoning a striped flannel.

"A person, look, it doesn't matter," John shot him another glare as socks were pulled over his toes. "I won't die, so I'll be fine. Don't worry about it. Besides, I'll tell you later. Right now, you need to go," he pointed to the clock and John had five minutes to get out the door and still be on time.

Aveen was already awake, and dressed and wondering why she was going with John, but he explained that Sherlock had a case, and she had to hang with John today. She simply smiled and complied. John took another glance at the clock on the stove in the kitchen. Two minutes, Watson…

He swore under his breath and gave Sherlock a quick kiss before he was rushing to get out the door and Sherlock followed all the way down the stairs, "Oh, John," he said as the door was opened. He pulled him for another kiss then said, "Have a good day," and ushered Aveen and his frazzled doctor out the door.

John hailed a cab as Aveen waited patiently and inside, Sherlock climbed the stairs to get dressed. He was visiting an old friend, that he stuck his neck out for, and he was having a good long talk with her…

* * *

Sherlock received a reply from the text he sent to who he was to visit. She gave him an address, which obviously wasn't where she was staying, because it was an alley about four blocks from his flat. He decided to walk, seeing as it would do him good and it would be weird to give such an address to a cabbie.

So he walked, in the sun, with a black shirt and jeans that didn't help with keeping away the heat. He walked, with his hands in his pockets and his head in the clouds, just thinking about the things he would tell her. The things he would chastise her about, and tell her she could have done very differently.

And he would tell her just how much he had risked getting her to a safe place. And how much she was risking just with the actions she's taken lately. He thought back to John and how he would react if Sherlock had told him just how much danger he was putting himself into.

He rounded a corner cautiously as he peaked around and there she stood, shadows covering her face, but Sherlock could see the twinkling blond hair that defined Mary as herself. The curves that stood out as she walked up to him.

She had been crying recently, but not as much as before. But what was she crying about now? John? Something she had done? Did she murder another one? Sherlock's questions flew through his head as he bit his tongue, making sure he didn't ask a one.

Mary gripped his shoulders in her arms in a hug that Sherlock didn't return. Sherlock was about to grill her on the many things he had thought about on the way over here, but he was stopped short by her saying, "Thank you, I know what you're risking even coming here now, let alone all you've done to keep my baby and I safe," she sniffled and smiled sadly.

"Why did you kill someone innocent? Why not someone who deserved it? Or who didn't have family?" he asked, the cold creeping into his voice and it chilled her, even with the heat of the day.

She bowed her head, "I wasn't thinking," her hair dropped over her eyes as she swept it back again, tucking it behind her ear as Sherlock noticed her pin was gone. But Sherlock gave her a look that said, yeah, you weren't thinking and now look? "But I was craving it, and even now, as we stand here, I can hear your pulse, begging me to rip your throat open," her sad voice faded into one Sherlock didn't recognize.

She looked up at him, hungry, and not for food or kisses. He saw her fangs descend and her pupils dilated slightly as she stepped closer. He didn't move, he didn't even flinch, knowing she wouldn't give in. She stepped closer, wondering why he wasn't moving, but she was still hungry.

The green in her eyes was almost gone to pupils as she stepped so close she was breathing on his chest as she looked up, yearning, begging, needing. He tilted his head to the side just a bit to show his vulnerability and her tongue flicked across her lips.

She wanted to, she could see the blood run and his veins pop from his skin, but it was Sherlock. She couldn't hurt him, even if she wanted to. Could she? She elevated herself slightly on her toes as he just stood, watching her try to contain herself.

He was right there, so vulnerable, so ready. But something flooded through her, and she saw him for who he was, not as her next meal. It was Sherlock, unafraid, loving, and sometimes an arse, but it was Sherlock, not just another bag of blood.

She backed away, she couldn't. The green returned to her eyes and she let her hair hide the tears welling again. Her fangs slowly retracted and she stood in utter disbelief in herself. She was about to hurt her ex's lover because she was simply hungry and bored.

She used to be so good at containing her hunger, so what was so different now? It was the baby, the hormones running through her were taking over and the human in her was fading. Vampires may feed on the living, but they live as well. They are no different than any other man or woman you find on the street.

As a matter of fact, they just may be the next person you run into. You wouldn't know, because it isn't obvious that they aren't human. The only thing that separated them was the appetite and with it the abilities.

They were stronger, faster and better at thinking, but their needs were the same. They still needed food, albeit a very small amount, but still, they needed the nutrition. They still needed exercise, they could still get fat and get injured and bleed.

They were people as well, but what Mary was becoming was not a person. She was turning into an animal which could strike and kill anything with sheer boredom and not care. That was why she hadn't picked her victim carefully.

She hadn't been thinking because she was thinking too much, if that made any sense. She thought herself too skilled to get caught, and she didn't, but they found the body of the woman's soul she sucked through her teeth and released. She took that woman's life and thought nothing of it, until she stopped and really thought of what she had actually done.

She had murdered, for the sake of not being bored. All she needed was a little blood, she didn't need the whole body, but she had wanted it. She had wanted all that that woman could give, simply because she could give it.

She was a murderer, and should be put behind bars. But she was already chained. These pesky emotions kept nagging her, telling her to care about what she had done. And they won, and she regrets every moment of what she had done.

Hearing the scream and enjoying the sound of it, enjoying sucking the life from a stranger as they begged for her to stop. Loving that the body fell to the ground and she was high, dripping blood from her teeth and lips.

She shivered as her knees buckled and she almost cried, but no. Not here, not in front of Holmes, but she was shaking furiously. Sherlock knelt in front of her, wondering what he had done. He hadn't done a thing, and that was the problem.

Mary loved it when her victim squirmed and screamed, giving the last whimper as their life left them. Sherlock hadn't screamed, hadn't fought and so she was disinterested. She disgusted herself when she admitted this was the reason she hadn't attacked and drank.

"Mary," she heard the ice of the voice in front of her. She looked up, still shivering from the emotion she was not about to release in front of him. His curls glistened in the sunlight as she focused on those grey eyes that had ice blue swirled into them. "Tell me what's wrong," he knew, but he didn't want to tell her, he wanted her to tell him.

"I…" she shook, "I murdered her, because I loved the way the scream fell from her throat and into the night, I loved the way she tried to fight as I bit down and the life from her body left with one last whimper before she fell limp into my arms. I loved to hear the sound of feet running from me as I stood with crimson dripping from my lips. I murdered her and I loved it," she screamed in disappointment at herself.

The sobs ripped from her chest and throat as the tears dripped from her pale and fluffy cheeks and they hit the concrete under them. Sherlock wrapped his arms around her, letting her sob it out, but suddenly her head ripped from Sherlock's shoulder as they heard footsteps behind Sherlock.

She looked up to find the woman she despised most standing behind the detective as she put a hand to his shoulder, keeping him on the ground as Mary scrambled to her feet. Sherlock nodded for her to run and she hated when she obeyed and her flats clicked on the ground as she ran.

Sherlock tried to stand, but the woman kept him down as she leaned over him, her blond hair falling over his shoulders as he recognized that color. He looked behind himself and confirmed what he thought.

"Jade," he rolled his eyes, "what a nice surprise. Where's the boy?" he asked. Her grip never faltered as he felt something on his neck.

But this feeling left as she pulled him off the ground and threw him on the wall, under the creeping shadows. She eyed him with the brown in her eyes being covered by her bangs and the pupils being blown so wide Sherlock didn't have to look to confirm she had fangs hanging from her lips.

"Predictable," he sighed as he tried to leave, but she pushed him to the wall and their chests met as her pearly white fangs drifted over the vein in his neck that was just screaming and pleading to be ripped open and drank from.

"To answer your question," she finally said, the fangs making a slight lisp, "the boy is with my sister," she said.

* * *

Mary watched as she couldn't tear her eyes from the scene far from her. Jade was talking to Sherlock, just talking and getting closer, but still just talking. He was responding as they talked of pointless things and Mary was hoping she wouldn't-

Her hopes were thrown in the trash as Jade's teeth sank into Sherlock's pretty and pale neck as he gasped in surprise. Mary's footsteps weren't heard as she got closer. She knew it was too late, but she had to do something.

He had to live, somehow. Mary ran to Jade, ripping her from Sherlock as she snarled and turned on Mary, "I'll eat you too if you don't leave now, dirty rat!"

"Fuck you!" and she kicked out as her foot was buried into Jade's abdomen and she hunched over as Mary rushed to Sherlock's side, assessing just how much blood was taken. Not much, enough for Jade to be nourished, but not enough for Sherlock to die. And sadly, enough for him to… no, this couldn't be happening.

Sherlock was hunched over in pain as his fingers touched the wound on his neck. Jade twirled Mary from her stance and tried to punch her, but Mary was too fast for this. And she was done, this woman was not hurting the man she loved as a close friend.

Mary's fist wrapped around Jane's and Sherlock cringed at the sound of bones cracking under that pressure and as the hand was released, Mary brought her in for something she's only ever tried once. She wondered how it would feel this time.

Her fangs descended once again and her pupils took over her eyes and her teeth sank into Jade's lovely neck. The blood tingled on her tongue as human blood doesn't and she drank more and more as she could feel her body being pleased.

It tasted so different from last time, and from human blood, but it was so good, she almost moaned from how much she wanted, how much she told from the woman whimpering under her grip. Jade's body paled as Mary drank and Sherlock watched. He was… jealous? Wait, why was he jealous? What was there to be jealous about?

Mary let go and the body fell to the concrete as she turned to Sherlock. Her pupils were still dilated, but not as much as she hiccupped. Why was he was so keen on blood? On how good he thought it would taste? What had Jade done to him?

Mary giggled, "She turned you, you sodding idiot," she pointed as she stumbled again and fell beside Sherlock, licking the last of the blood from her lips. Sherlock glared at her. "You're one of us, now, pretty." She stroked his cheek as she dazed.

It was a few minutes before she controlled herself enough to say, "I'll email you later about us. You'll need to learn, bye," she giggled as she stepped into the shadows where Jade laid and Sherlock leaned against the wall he sat upon.

He gained the strength to stand as he stumbled back to Baker Street and his flat. Luckily everyone was at work and their children were at the park, enjoying the last week of summer before going back to school.

He flung the door open as he collapsed on the stairs and Mrs. Hudson freaked out, grabbing bandages as she grabbed her phone, "No!" Sherlock suddenly shouted, "Don't! I'll take care of it," was all he could get out before his mouth went dry and his vision was on the fritz.

The colors of the main room confused him as his chair was a bright pink and the kitchen was filled with purples and blues and strangely, orange. His head couldn't take the pain given as he passed out.

Mrs. Hudson believed Sherlock and trusted him and she didn't call the police or an ambulance, she simply cleaned him up and stopped the bleeding as she covered him with a band aid and a blanket and left.

She didn't want to wake him, thinking sleep would help, or else he wouldn't have fallen asleep. His breathing became shallow as he fell into the deepest sleep he'd ever been in.

* * *

Sherlock wandered his mind palace aimlessly, trying to settle on a memory, but he couldn't as he flitted through them, all of them boring, except… ah, that night. John had taken him, and it felt so good, and he had taken John.

They had taken one another from this world, and thrust each other into a world of love and lust. Sherlock had loved that night and it was always playing in his mind, over and over again, wishing for it to happen once more.

And this was what he did, he replayed that heat, that love and those moments where he couldn't remember himself, let alone the sound surrounding him. He replayed it until he heard voices.

* * *

"Sherlock," John shook his shoulder, "Sherlock, love, I'm home," he said as Sherlock blinked, his vision repaired from the weird shit it was doing earlier. He felt his neck where Mrs. Hudson had bandaged it for him. He loved her for that, but as he pressed his fingers to it, the pain jolted him from the sleep he had tried waking from.

John was confused as Sherlock jumped up, spilling the blanket to the floor and his eyes were full of something John couldn't figure out. It was a mix of lust and pain. Pain from what? The wound? It seemed so. "Sherlock, what happened?" John finally asked as Aveen stood awkwardly watching all of this fold out.

She stared as Sherlock answered, "She bit me," he said as if he couldn't believe she had done such a thing. His fingers felt over it again as he ripped the bandage from it and his fingers stroked it bare. He hissed in pain, but persisted, looking for something, it seemed.

He gave up as his fingers fell to his side and John tilted his head so he could see and his eyes widened, "Sherlock, did Mary-?"

"No!" he almost slapped the idiot, "Jade! That woman who flirted with me at the park! That woman!" the rage bubbling up in his chest when he shouted.

"Sherlock, calm down. Aveen, go to your room," he ordered as she nodded and followed the order. She wondered what Sherlock meant by that comment about being bit.

John pushed Sherlock to the couch and made him calm down as Sherlock purred, "Mmmm, John. Can we play?" he giggled as he pulled John into a kiss.

The soldier resisted, "No, Sherlock. We need to figure out what's going on. What did she do?" he questioned as Sherlock pouted.

"She 'turned' me, Mary said. She bit me and I got this funny feeling and now I want you. Please, play with me," he begged, obviously not himself.

"No, Sherlock! Stop!" he silenced the lusting detective. "She bit you? She was a vampire?" he asked, lowering his voice so Aveen couldn't hear. Sherlock nodded, ashamed of himself, suddenly. What was he doing?

He had the doctor in a death grip with his thighs and he had a bulge in his pants that disappeared quickly as he realized what he was doing. He pushed John off of him and sat up quickly. He blushed of embarrassment. John finally nodded, confirming that Sherlock was done being a horny idiot.

"Sherlock, " he tried, Sherlock looked to him, every emotion faded into the back of his mind and all that was left was the face that was hiding a lot. John could see it, though. He saw the emotion swimming in his mind, waiting to burst.

But he didn't push into them, he simply skirted them and asked, "What happened and how did you get bit?" Sherlock started with the text he sent Mary to meet him, then he went to the alley where she had cried and told him about the murder and why she had chosen that woman instead of someone else.

He also told of how it felt to have Jade push her teeth into his neck and how Mary pulled her off and fought her and bit her and now she was dead as Mary was still alive and still very healthy. High on blood, but healthy, and so was the baby, from the little gut she was sporting.

She was fit, but pregnant, so she couldn't do anything about the belly she was getting from the baby, but Sherlock thought it was adorable for some reason, maybe because that baby was part of John. At that, John cringed, he had made a baby, and she or he was going to be a vamp.

But he recovered as Sherlock continued on into how he walked home and Mrs. Hudson found him and bandaged him and he fell asleep and now he was here. "And I'm sorry," he continued, "for being a lust filled clot." An apology? Well, now that was something.

"It's fine," John admitted, "it's all fine. Jesus, this is horrible. Now what?" he asked, searching Sherlock for an answer. He simply shrugged as he remembered Mary's words.

He jumped up and grabbed his laptop, for a change and logged in and checked his email. Yup, there was one from an anonymous person that had to be Mary, plus, there was documents attached and there was a lot. She explained the reason she sent him this and he opened the documents.

He gaped at how much information was held in this email. But nonetheless, he was curious and started reading…

* * *

**So, reviews? You can rant and yell at me if that's your cup of tea...**


	5. Chapter 5

Five: The Handbook

John read over Sherlock's shoulder as they both let the words in front of them sink into their corneas, and let their brains consume the knowledge the words splattered across the screen of Sherlock's laptop.

It talked of when the first Vampire was made because a Demon was stupid and did a blood spell completely wrong and it made him a Vampire as well as the others he was experimenting on, (he was a Demon scientist. strange, I know). The men and women became the first Vampires as their hunger was switched from human souls, to simply their blood and/or their life with it.

Sherlock almost drooled at the word blood, but they kept reading and found that Sherlock's state earlier was normal and that later tonight, or possibly then next morning if it takes that long, he'll need at least a pint of blood and some food in the few hours after. John teased him about the eating part, saying he had to eat now.

But the words also said that he only had to drink once a month and he only had to eat once a week. Sherlock gave a smug smile as John caught up in reading and he frowned. More time for cases and less time for food and what Sherlock really needed.

But this was also the bare minimum. In order for Sherlock to keep his strength he needed to eat food once a week, still, and needed to drink thrice in a month. He hated those words, but he could deal with this.

He wondered if John would let him feed on him. No, that would be bad. He might hurt John and that would be very, very bad. Bad Sherlock, stop thinking about that and read. Sherlock's eyes darted over the screen again and he read and processed the words as John caught up.

Once Vampires were discovered the church sealed them out of their communities, saying they weren't fit to live in a society with humans. They fixed this by training and adapting to only small amounts of blood so they could live, but not murder.

The human part of their blood always took over when it came to their lives and wanting to live (in the blood spell, there was a little bit of human blood). They wanted to be part of a system, they wanted to have a job and not be hated just because they have different appetites that please their pallets more so than human food.

Yes, they still needed food, but it was far less than a human needed. A Vampire could go a year without food, but they'd need blood every day. And the longest they can go with nothing, no food, no blood, is about six months before they starve as any other person would.

And yes, if they are a gluttonous pig and eat or drink all the time, they will get fatter. And yes, they need exercise, Sherlock had that covered, and yes, they go insane with no one there. They needed everything a human does, just smaller amounts of it, seeing as their bodies were stronger and could take more, and their psyche was a little stronger as well.

As for death by other means, they can be killed by a bullet, they can die from a large fall and they can be drowned. It just takes more, like they'd have to be drowned longer and they'd have to fall higher. Although, the bullet, it doesn't matter. But it does take longer for them to bleed out.

They bleed slower than a human would, their skin being thicker and harder to get through, but a bullet could. As for breaking bones, it didn't happen unless they had something like a fucking car on top of them. And they heal really well and faster than a human would.

Speaking of healing, when they bite, if it's a few minutes afterwards, they can use their saliva to heal. Same with any other wound, really. But the longest they can go without the saliva for it to work, would be about fifteen minutes. After that, the wound is set in and they can't do a thing about it.

This was interesting, because if that was the case, he could only drink a little from someone and they wouldn't even notice. He glanced at John's neck and decided on not doing that to him as he continued reading.

He scrolled as he continued, this next excerpt was on the daily life, people around you and how to deal with your secret and things.

It got interesting again when it talked about drinking from your partner, as in your life partner, you lover, your spouse, whatever. It said that drinking from someone was fine, but drinking from them while having sex was intimate. More so than the act of the sex itself.

It's only done between those who are married, or those who know they'll stay there forever. But, the catch was that no matter who you had sex with, you'll have the temptation to drink. Even if you don't love them, so resisting would show strength, but it also means you should be ashamed, having sex with someone you don't love…

Anyway, then it went down into the different types of blood. Drinking from a human was good, but drinking from something inhuman would get you high, it was a drug, literally. Yeah, it helped keep up strength, but it temporarily gets you high off your ass, as Sherlock saw with Mary.

It also explained that drinking from your own species would do you over for at least a day. If you drink enough, or all of it, you'll be high for another two days. The giggly thing will fade away and you'll feel slightly more normal, but you'll feel a little groggy after that.

And the after effects, oh God, Sherlock felt bad for Mary now. It was like having a hangover but it lasts for another two maybe three days. You'll vomit for sure and you'll just have a huge fucking head ache. Some say the high is worth it, but then there's the others that say those people are fucking stupid.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as it went into the traditions that Vampires adapted from humans and Demons. They celebrate the holidays and things with the humans, and they also have other things, like January fifth, is celebrated because that was when they were officially allowed to live amongst humans as long as the humans had no idea of their existence.

Sherlock was sure that some Vamps had fallen in love with humans and they know, but that doesn't mean you go telling everyone. Plus, there was the fact that it mentioned that the Elders were always watching.

The Elders? Yes, they were basically the government of the Vampires. Demons that had to take over the Vampire race and they monitor every one of their 'children' to make sure they follow the 'laws' of the Vamps. Blah, so boring.

Sherlock sighed at this, it was so boring and predictable. He didn't even read the rest except for one other subject that caught his attention. The one about how to tend to a Vamp's wounds. John was especially interested as well as they scrolled into this.

It said that cuts would heal fast and bruises would disappear within days, but things that looked like they needed stitches would take at least a week, depends on how deep it is. But it heals nicely and doesn't leave a scar. Sherlock wondered about the science behind this. He'd have to figure it out someday.

But he continued into how to tend to a bullet wound in say, your shoulder or your abdomen. That would take at least a week and a half to heal, if done properly, but that was better than the month they make you stay in the hospital. Sherlock hated hospitals.

As far as things like scratches from cats or whatever, they disappear instantly. Speaking of animals, Vampires don't have any connection to cats or bats or spiders or anything. Yes, they were more gifted when it came to taming animals, but that doesn't mean they have to like them.

Sherlock was bored now, "John, this is boring. Everything else is predictable," he complained as John just looked from him to the screen then his eyes settled on Sherlock's and he sighed.

"I'm making dinner, anyway," he finally said as Aveen popped out. She questioned of she could stay out here this time as they both nodded and she flopped on the couch beside Sherlock. "Sherlock, are you going to eat?" John asked.

"I don't have to," he said smugly. John rolled his eyes, he'll have to drink later, though. John thought about letting Sherlock drink from him if there was no other choice, or maybe just because… no, he shook his head, that'd be weird, and Sherlock probably wouldn't anyway.

He gathered things and made simple burgers and tater tots that you slip into the oven for half an hour. Aveen enjoyed it nonetheless as John munched and swallowed and Sherlock could hear everything.

He guessed that his senses were improving now, as he had boringly read. He would be able to see in the dark, slightly, and he would be able to smell certain things and hear anything within a two mile radius. He was going to love this being a Vampire thing.

It would prove to be difficult sometimes, yes, but this could work. It would help enhance his ability to work as well. he'd be able to sniff out the killer, probably almost literally. He also already loved teasing John with it.

The daylight faded and Aveen went off to get a quick shower and she came back with PJs, a towel on her shoulders and a brush. She stared at the two men on the couch, back to reading the boring and stupid 'handbook' on basically how to be a Vampire. Ugh.

John moved out from under Sherlock as they both sat up and John patted his thigh, welcoming Aveen so he could brush her hair. She handed him the brush as she almost purred with John brushing out her long black hair.

She loved being able to hand it off to someone who took good care of her instead of someone who rushed it and didn't bother to take care. She hugged John, kissing him on the cheek and hopped back to her room. John smiled as he looked to Sherlock who was staring, "Bored!" he complained.

"You're always bored," John pointed out.

"Not when I'm in bed with you," he purred into John's ear.

He shook his head, "No. not tonight. I'm tired and we need to wait until your bloodlust thing passes and we can actually sleep without you snacking on me in the middle of the night," he tried to joke, but it came out harsher than he expected.

Sherlock shrugged, "I thought you liked it when I bit you," he teased. John could already see the lust setting in. he sighed as he finally realized what time it was. It was inching closer to eleven.

Then he got an idea, and he had thought of this earlier, but he had forgotten with Sherlock's 'turning' and all. "We should find a good school for Aveen to get into," he suggested. "It'll distract you until… then and we need to, there's only a week of summer left. You know she should start sometime around the 29th or the 30th." It was the twentieth of April now.

"Fine," Sherlock said and he leaned into John again and they looked up some schools they'd heard of before because of people and obsessing over the fact that Sherlock and John should have a kid. But now, they guessed they could thank their fans for the information.

**(By the way, this school doesn't actually exist, so don't hold me to this…) T**hey finally found one that had the whole package of an Elementary school, plus Middle school and High school. It was strangely called Everwood Elementary. It looked nice enough, though.

And it was actually close enough that Sherlock could walk her there every morning, John would be at work by then, so it had to be Sherlock. They decided they would take her tomorrow, getting papers and such to get her in.

According to the site, they were a lot of openings, because kids were going to other schools that were just as good, maybe even better. But this was perfect because Sherlock could get exercise, Aveen could get school and everyone would be happy.

This was decided and Sherlock suddenly turned on John, licking his lips as they landed on John's. John glanced at the clock on the laptop, midnight. Figures.

Sherlock's lust was setting in and soon after, it would be followed by hunger. Damn, where was John getting blood now? He couldn't very well go to a blood bank. He couldn't just let Sherlock eat anyone. So he decided as he slid his tongue in between Sherlock's lips.

He would let Sherlock drink from him. He only needed a pint, right? That couldn't hurt so much. John might be tired in the morning, but that would happen anyway, staying up so late. Sherlock's kisses became more rough as he pulled back and howled in pain.

His teeth were morphing, and it hurt like hell. Wait, no, they were being replaced. His incisors were pushed out and landed in his hands as the fangs poked his lips. They were sharp and new as Sherlock swallowed his own blood.

He threw his teeth in the trash, letting John freak out as he simply stared at him, dazed and now wanting something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He pulled John close, letting his breath ghost over John's lips. John shut up as they drifted downward.

Over his jaw and down to his neck where John's veins were pounding against Sherlock's lips as he pressed careful kisses to them. Was he really going to do this? John was going to let him, but did he really think he could do it without drinking too much, though?

It did say that if you drink from someone you love, it tastes sweeter and it's harder to stop. But he wants to so badly, maybe he should just reject the change and die human instead of living for a thousand years and John leaving him.

Then there's the possibility that John gets hurt because Sherlock took too much and then he turns as well. God, why were there so many risks to this!? "John," he whispered against his lovers skin, he hummed in response, a little nervous that Sherlock could just… he shivered, "I don't want to hurt you," he admitted, grabbing John's cheek in his hand and holding it there, assuring him that John wasn't going to leave him alone.

"You'll die if you don't drink, Sherlock. Just," he tilted his head and his neck was exposed completely, "do it," he demanded. It was not a request anymore, it was an order. Sherlock was shaking when his fangs traced one of John's veins and he shivered again.

Sherlock regrettably sunk his teeth into his lover's skin, and the pain and surprise made John's knees buckle and he fell into Sherlock's arms as Sherlock was focused on the red oozing from John. He kneeled with John in his arms as he simply drank.

He let the crimson from his love's neck slide through his mouth down to his growling stomach, warm and free as it dripped from his chin onto John's shoulder and he whimpered. Sherlock's hands went to John's shoulders to keep him steady as he tried to stop. He pulled away as he wanted more, but he shoved the hunger down his throat with the last of blood.

John smiled, and Sherlock was confused as he licked at the wound he left on his soldier. John's hand went to Sherlock's cheek where he hadn't noticed that tears were falling. John sat up in Sherlock's lap, high as hell from the effects of drinking his blood.

Sherlock licked the blood from his lips, satisfied, but regretting it as the tears just stopped, and he was glad he didn't hurt John. He almost hadn't stopped. But John kissed him, despite the blood on Sherlock's lips and his chin. John thought it tasted strange, but he kept his lips to Sherlock's until they parted and Sherlock wiped the blood from his chin.

He looked to John's shirt, and sighed at the blood that would stain it later. John looked as well and shrugged. He tackled Sherlock again, throwing them completely on the floor, the detective under the doctor.

John's tongue slid into Sherlock's mouth and Sherlock couldn't help but feel guilty for what he did to his soldier. He basically drugged him, and now there's this ball of lust who called himself John on top of him, and he couldn't do a thing about it.

"John," he breathed, "John, stop."

"Why?" he complained. "You seem to be enjoying it, too," he smirked and rubbed them together, the heightened senses making them both moan.

"No, John, stop it. I can't," he whined. John persisted, and Sherlock barked out an order, "John Hamish Watson, get off of me!" John jumped up and Sherlock stood, "We need to get your shirt off and in the wash, it has blood on it," he pointed out.

He looked to it again and ripped his shirt off, "Happy?" he threw it on the floor as he lunged for Sherlock, "Come here," he demanded.

"No," and John fell to the floor as Sherlock moved to the side. John growled in frustration as he stood once more.

"Why are you resisting me? You didn't last time," John complained. But this wasn't love's lust, this was just lust. Cold and hard and not passionate and hot.

"John, that's because last time it just happened, this time you're forcing it on me. Stop and think about what you're doing," he grabbed John by the shoulders and shook him a little.

John tried, and still the high was clouding his judgment. It was wearing off, but very slowly and John was aching with want. He was almost panting when he latched onto Sherlock's waist, "I'm sorry," he said, "Please, it hurts now."

Sherlock sighed, "Fine," he took his wrist and guided him to their room where he pushed John into the covers. "I knew I shouldn't have done that," he chastised himself and John for letting him drink. Sherlock was high, yes, but it wasn't as bad as before, and it wasn't like John was.

Hopefully, the drug like effects will fade once he orgasms, if not, this was going to be a long night.

John was ashamed that he had to have this, but it felt as though if he didn't have Sherlock in or on him he would die. And Sherlock's kisses around his nipple weren't helping his case. But Sherlock wanted this to be done in a way that would make him melt into the orgasm instead of just having one, it would help with getting the high to fade.

(Let me elaborate on this, 'high' thing. When a Vamp bites, their saliva mixes with the blood and when they're feeding for the first time, the saliva has more of an effect on the victim. It's only supposed to render them helpless, but it gives them a high as well, and that is what John is suffering from. And for him, it got him hard, fast. So, yeah...)

This wouldn't be as good as their first night together, but this would have to do as his mouth moved lower, to John's navel where he had that cute little stripe of blond hair leading to under his pants. Sherlock nibbled the spots he knew he would get moans from as his fingers worked off John's PJ pants.

They were on the floor as Sherlock looked up to John, who was watching with wide eyes, like a child who's getting the prize they won at the carnival. Sherlock chuckled as his digits hooked under John's pants and pulled them down enough to reveal the aching erection John had been sporting.

Sherlock teased by licking and biting around it and on his thighs and when John whimpered, he pecked the head as his lips moved down to the hilt where Sherlock nibbled as best he could through the blond mess of hair.

His tongue traced back up and his teeth teased the head as he noticed that his fangs had retracted, but his incisors were still insanely sharp. He used this to his advantage as his mouth took half of John and his tongue and teeth teased in such a way that John came with the first few licks.

Sherlock swallowed all of it and it finally took the taste of John's blood from his tongue and pulled up John's pants as he laid beside the idiot, "Better?"

"Yes," he moaned as Sherlock could see the effects wearing off. "Will that happen every time you drink from me?" he asked.

"Well, not exactly. It won't be as bad next time, you'll have your head, you'll be week and high, but you'll be able to think. And just to let you know, there won't be a next time. I can't," he confirmed.

"Why not? Sherlock, you have-"

Sherlock shushed him, "I almost took too much and that would have killed you or turned you. I'm not taking that risk again," he promised.

"Sherlock, you'll have to at some point, and I am not letting you die," he sat up as Sherlock just shrugged.

"I'll die eventually, Vampires don't live past a thousand years," he pointed out. John gave up, knowing he wouldn't be able to win this argument. Sherlock will drink again, and John will make sure he lives. He just wasn't sure if Sherlock was going to drink from him again.

Honestly, he liked the high, but he didn't like the way he was acting. He was a horny idiot trying to get Sherlock to fuck him simply because he felt like it. He was hoping that if Sherlock drank from him again, he'd be able to contain himself.

John collapsed on his lover's chest, hearing the slow and steady heartbeats as he realized that Sherlock had already given up on staying awake. He smiled, kissing Sherlock's forearm as he cuddled into his sleeping detective.

He pulled the duvet over them and John finally fell asleep. He wished he hadn't been such an arse, but what could he do? He was practically drugged and he couldn't stop himself, so Sherlock had to do it for him.

Ugh, this is just going to get harder every day.

* * *

When John woke up, Sherlock was already out of bed and he heard Aveen in the kitchen, talking with him. John groaned as he slipped his PJ pants back on and he shuffled out to the kitchen where Sherlock greeted him with a smile. He hoped Sherlock had already eaten.

He grunted in response to Sherlock's greeting, making coffee and feeling like he had a hangover. Sherlock simply chuckled and went back to his laptop as Aveen and him fell suddenly silent. John didn't question, though. He just plopped in his chair, noticing that Aveen had one as well.

So Sherlock finally found the stupid thing. He looked at the clock and he wished he didn't have to go to work in half an hour. He sipped on his coffee and hoped that would help clear his head of this head ache that wasn't there last night.

Mmmm, last night. It was regrettable, yet amazing. That was when John noticed that Sherlock wasn't wearing a shirt, either. What'd he do to it now? Aveen just swung her feet under her chair as John was reminded of something when she said, "When do I get to go to school?"

"Mmm, Sherlock. We still have to do that thing," he waved his hand at Sherlock to address him as the other went to his eyes, they ached as well now.

Sherlock nodded, "I know. I didn't forget, I'm taking her there after you wake up and can go with us," he said, bored.

"Sherlock, I have to go to work," he complained.

"Mm, no you don't," he smiled when John looked at him in confusion, "I called and said you were sick. Which wasn't a complete lie." He leaned over the table and whispered to John, "It'll wear off in a few hours," and put a kiss to John's cheek.

John sighed, looking to Aveen, "Did you eat yet?" she nodded, which meant Sherlock had eaten as well, and Sherlock went back to his laptop, reading something. Oh yeah, that stupid 'handbook'. God, what a stupid name, and for something so fucking boring.

It doesn't tell you how to deal with the effects, it just tells you what they are. Stupid thing. But John leaned over Sherlock's shoulder to see what section he was reading. It was one about how Vampires react to different drugs, especially alcohol.

Well, Sherlock doesn't get drunk, so that won't be a problem. But the way it describes some of these other things, John might have to watch him now. They sound pretty trippy, and somehow satisfying to those who are into that kind of thing.

John never understood drugs, they make him feel weird and he hates it. Even a morphine drip makes him all weird and he doesn't like it. Although, somehow, that high Sherlock gave him was a pleasant one. But anyway, Sherlock, on the other hand, he had a history of using drugs. Cocaine, heroin, cigarettes. Jesus, cigarettes, John hated it when he would beg for them.

Sherlock read what John was thinking about and he said, "I've never tried opium. Heard it wasn't worth it," John shook his head at the man under him. Fucking idiot. Aveen was just confused and they both chuckled softly at her innocence.

John put a kiss to Sherlock's cheek, "I'm getting dressed," he announced and Sherlock followed mumbling something about 'might as well'. John smiled as he stripped and changed and Sherlock was right beside him, doing the same.

He loved being able to be naked in front of Sherlock and he won't expect anything from him. All the women he had been with had been so whiney when he was naked and they couldn't have any. But Sherlock just casually stood beside him, staring but not complaining or anything.

Honestly, he didn't care, Sherlock had been naked in front of people before, and he didn't find the human body something that should be used like that all the time. So he wasn't even aroused when John had stripped his pants for another pair.

When they did finish, John threw his arms around Sherlock's neck, "I love you," he looked up at the tall man smiling down on him.

"I love you, too," he nuzzled into John's neck and John buttoned up on of Sherlock's buttoned on his shirt. He had left four open instead of three and it was revealing a lot. They exchanged a quick kiss before going back to the kitchen where Aveen had changed as well.

She was so cute in her skirt and leggings,and still sneakers. She hated anything else but sandals and sneakers. She was a strange child, but this was a strange family. John smiled and almost grinned at the thought of them being a fucked up yet functional family.

But that's what this was. The Vampire and the human child with the doctor who takes care of both of them at once. John wondered what was going on in Sherlock's mind at the moment as he shut down his computer.

"So," Sherlock started, noticing that John's head ache was subsiding, "I know a park that's close to the school, if you two wish to go?" he sounded bored as always, but at least he was trying.

Aveen jumped up and down, "Can we? Can we?!" she seemed to beg John. He chuckled and mumbled a 'sure' as they all slipped on their shoes and were out the door in five minutes.

They walked under the slight heat of the sun and the breeze cooled it down a bit as Aveen walked in between Sherlock and John. Both of them took one of her hands and occasionally they would swing her off her feet and she would land in giggles. They smiled at each other as they neared the playground.

One that Aveen hadn't seen before. It was magnificent as they jungle gym was very tall and there was a slide that came off it, twirling and looking so tempting. There were a few kids there, but not as many as there should have been.

Although, it is early, so they'd probably start getting here around noon, when the heat of the day will be enough to let them run around in bathing suits. Sherlock and John sat on one of the benches and Sherlock put his hand over John's and he let him.

After a few moments, John linked his fingers in between Sherlock's and they sat, watching to make sure Aveen got along with the other kids and didn't get hurt. This time, there was only one boy at the park, and he was so small and cute that the older girls were attached.

The father of said boy just laughed as he absorbed the attention like a friggin' sponge. Aveen rolled her eyes as she climbed all over the place, gliding down the slide sometimes, but mostly she spent time on the thing that simulated a rock wall. She was good at climbing, and John wondered if she would make a good soldier.

She was strong hearted, smart and apparently brilliantly athletic. "When you said she was good at football, just how good was she?" John asked.

"She was practically her own team," Sherlock boasted. He was proud of her, and knew she would go far in the future. John smiled as he saw her fall from the rocks, it wasn't high enough to seriously hurt her, but John worried, and Sherlock simply sat and watched, holding John down, saying, "Just look," and John obeyed.

She got back up on her feet and sprung from the ground and caught the stone she was on before and continued climbing. Soldier, definitely. She was panting when she reached the top again, but she had succeeded and Sherlock smiled smugly, knowing she would pull something like that.

Aveen continued climbing to the top through the stairs and the rope bridge and she slid down the slide one last time before skipping back to Sherlock and John. "I'm bored now," she complained as she hopped up in John's lap, leaning into his chest as his chin rested on the top of her head.

Sherlock stood, not letting go of John's hand as John stood as well, and it was evident that Aveen wasn't getting down, so he put her on his hip and they walked the rest of the way to the school they decided she would go to. Aveen was actually pretty light for her age, but her size said otherwise.

Aveen rested on John as she almost fell asleep, but she was startled when John moved her and she had to stand so that they could enter the building. But John had her hand as they approached the front office. Now, both of his hands were occupied, and somehow, it was a nice feeling. He'd always thought it to be annoying before, but now it felt nice.

The woman behind the counter smiled as she leaned over and looked down on Aveen who sleepily smiled up. She then looked to the two men who claimed her as theirs. John hoisted Aveen onto his hips again, "This is Aveen," he introduced, and Sherlock let go of John's hand.

"Oh, hi, Aveen," she had an American accent as she greeted the child on John's hip. Sherlock was bored as he looked around, examining everything, including the woman. "Stop it," John ordered before saying, "is there room for her to go here?" he asked the burnet woman who had huge curls and looked about thirty.

"Of course! What grade are you going into?" she asked Aveen who was awake now and fully aware of the woman's question.

She smiled, "Second," she answered and the woman was a little surprised. Aveen didn't look like a second grader, but she was old enough, and she was smart enough, John and Sherlock didn't doubt that.

"And you two would be?" asking their names.

"John Watson and Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock finally spoke before John could answer. Her eyes widened as she recognized those names and she was grinning like an idiot as she handed them the papers, saying they were for Aveen to sign up. Well, more like stuttering, but she managed.

They were attached to a clipboard as John sat down with a pen and Aveen at his shoulder while Sherlock simply stood, deducing the woman John had told him not to. Sherlock didn't take orders from anyone and he wasn't going to start.

Aveen helped John with some information about herself as they filled out the four sheets of shit that didn't matter once she was actually in school. But Sherlock finally gave up and sat down, looking over the third paper that they had started on now.

Sherlock sighed in boredom as his head leaned back onto the wall behind the small couch they were sitting on. His curls folded into his eyes as he closed them, listening to the things going on in the office at the moment.

Sherlock suddenly stood, asking the woman, "When does she officially start?"

"The thirtieth," she answered, not looking away from the screen she was suddenly interested in. Although, she was blushing something fierce when Sherlock sat down again. Why do they start on a Tuesday? That's stupid. Whatever, at least she gets to start with the other kids. Hopefully they don't turn out to be like the kids at that one park.

Then she'd be getting into fights that would get her into deep trouble. Sherlock knew though, that she would probably just avoid the arseholes and try to make friends with the other boys and girls, less drama that way.

Or so it seemed to be that way. That idiot at the park changed that view for Sherlock. Now he wasn't so sure, but he knew she wouldn't get into trouble if she valued her education and from the way she asks questions about the cases, she loves learning. She soaks up knowledge as if she's the bed of a river.

Always there, letting it run over her as she picks what she likes and engulfs that. Sherlock heaved another sigh, saying he was extremely bored. John stopped for a moment to say, "Go get a case for us or something, if you're so bored," he suggests.

"Aveen, John," he pointed out, "Wait, if we…" and he shut up to ponder the ways they could go on a case and take Aveen with them. He texted Lestrade to see if he had something mild, and not boring. He texted back saying he had one who was poisoned and he was just about to ask for them to come down anyway.

Sherlock loved poison, it meant he could visit Molly in the lab and have her work beside him as always. He loved Molly, not like John, but like a friend and a coworker. She was always quiet unless the question was one that needed asking. Sherlock loved working with her because she also always knew what he needed before he even knew.

But the years of them working together proved her to be the most useful of assistants. Then he actually grew attached to her when he Fell, and she just stuck. She said she doesn't matter, but she does, more than most.

Poor Molly, though. She's head over heels for Sherlock and he's never returned the feeling. He loves her, but it's completely platonic while her love for him is uncontrollable sometimes. She even kissed him at one point. He didn't return the kiss, nor did he dislike it, he just didn't expect such a thing and ever since then, he's been attached, but he also pities her.

She loves the one man who loves another man, and can never return that feeling. Ugh, sentiment, and a dangerous cycle, and she knows it. But she can't help who she falls in love with. Besides, there are many other women who would kill to be in her position where she is now.

They would have loved to kiss Holmes, or work beside him. But that was why he loved Molly. She wasn't like those girls. She already had said position and wouldn't give it up, but she doesn't obsess over him, either. She simply loves him, and that was how it was always going to be, she loves him and Sherlock loves John, who will always love Sherlock and it just will always stay that way.

Molly has a fiancée, and she's trying to move on, but it will always be like this. Even if she does marry Tom, she'll be stuck. Sherlock felt bad now, but he had a case and that would always cheer him up. Secretly, he loves the smell of death, it means someone was clever and he gets to be cleverer. He loved outsmarting people.

Then he began to wonder what the poison was that was used, and if he would recognize it by just looking or if he could work with Molly again. He would probably pay a visit to the lab anyway, just to see her. He hasn't seen her in such a long time, so it seemed.

Now, he really wants to see Molly again. When John and Aveen finally fucking finished, they rushed out the door and Sherlock repeated the address texted to him to the cabbie that had been called and he was so excited to be back in the game, and not so dormant now.

* * *

**So, yeah, Sherlock's a Vampire now. Reviews? Tell me what you think of this? Or if you hate it? **


	6. Chapter 6

Six: What Else Would She Be?

Lestrade welcomed Sherlock into the building, but he frowned when he saw Aveen on John's hip. John gave him a glare that said she comes in, or he leaves, and Sherlock wouldn't work with Lestrade if John wasn't there as well.

Gregory sighed as they stood over the man who died, but Sherlock couldn't see any signs of poison. And then there it was, that smell, it said that something inhuman was here; he didn't know how, it just did. He looked closer, and there were two marks. They had healed to be only little white marks on his neck, but apparently he was still alive at that point.

So what killed him if not the blood loss, then? That was when Sherlock remembered something he had read about some humans not being able to hold the change within them and they die instead of turn. Poor bastard, then. It sounds painful.

"Well, it was definitely poison, but not one you'll recognize," Sherlock said to Lestrade as he stood. He jerked his head in a direction so John would come over here and he could talk to him. Technically it was a type of poison.

"What was it, then?" Aveen stayed over there, where she was fascinated by how pale this man had become. Lestrade was intrigued that she was interested and she ignored him as she circled the body, as Sherlock does.

"He was bitten, and the change killed him. It happens, but how do we explain that to Lestrade, and," he mentioned another subject of interest, "Why are there all of the sudden Vampire attacks now? Why not before? Either that, or why are they getting so sloppy?" he questioned mostly himself, but John was listening as well.

John had no idea, either. Then there was that crazy idea in the back of his head, that said Mary was the one to do this, but why? "She wasn't, by the way. Mary is innocent," Sherlock said, knowing John would question her involvement.

Sherlock went back to the body, studying things around him as well as the man again. Ah, so that's why he died so fast. There were two, one woman and one man. A couple, new? Possibly. He didn't say anything else as John hoisted Aveen to his waist again as she simply stared with a smile on her face.

She truly was a strange child. What was she seeing in this murder? Whatever it was, she wanted to say, but she didn't. Sherlock wondered why she was keeping her discoveries to herself. Sherlock pulled some things out of his pocket and gathered DNA, for testing, as Lestrade shook his head in disbelief that Sherlock just carried those things around. John wasn't surprised in the least.

But this was Sherlock, and he shoved anything he might need in his pockets. Usually it would be his jacket, but it was too hot for that now, so it was his trousers that he pulled the objects of science from. John smirked as Aveen gasped in excitement at what Sherlock was doing.

She wanted to know and he explained it to her as they left, John was also listening to Sherlock's voice and his excitement in it. That really wasn't decent, to be so excited while some poor bloke was lying dead on the floor of an abandoned house.

Well, abandoned as in, people didn't live there officially, but you could tell where the homeless sometimes stayed. No one said anything about it, though. No one really cared if the homeless took refuge in a house, it didn't matter anymore.

John hailed a cab as Aveen slid in first, and John followed while Sherlock was last. Sherlock took John's hand in his own and Aveen smiled, processing all the information she had taken in about the murdered man. She wondered what had killed him, and from the hushed voices of Sherlock and John, she was guessing it was a Vampire that did it.

Oh yes, she knew about the Vampires. It was why she left her mother in the first place. Aveen had a few secrets of her own, but they would be revealed later as she focused on the relationship between her… fathers? Yes, she now considered them so.

She hadn't even known it was possible for another boy to love a boy like that, but it was evident from the way they looked at each other and the way they acted around one another that they didn't care if it was impossible, they loved each other and that would never change.

Sherlock had taken them to the lab where his eyes lit up when he saw Molly. Of course, he looked bored as he was always, but John saw that twinkle in his eyes that said he loved having Molly close and working with him again.

John wasn't jealous, because he knew Sherlock loved him. But he felt sorry for Molly. It was evident that she loved and really did work well with Sherlock, and John knew that if he wasn't here, she would have won his love at some point.

But John had ruined that chance, and he hated it. But if he didn't love Sherlock, then half of him would walk away, and all that would be left would be the part that lived alone and regretted every day that he wasn't dead.

As a matter of fact, before Sherlock had come into his life, that was what it was like, and then Sherlock Fell and it returned to that feeling, but he had Mary and she pieced together what she could find of the broken man presented to her.

But then again, Sherlock returned and that other half that Mary couldn't give was restored and John hasn't loved anyone else like this. Not even Mary could please that part of him. He hated thinking that she wasn't enough, but she wasn't.

Aveen sat there as her own thoughts were everywhere. If this was a Vampire, then why have the attacks started now? Why are they getting sloppy all of a sudden? Are they trying to… oh no, no that really isn't good. But she had to keep her mouth shut, because they'd never believe her even if what she told them would come back to bite them in the ass, possibly literally.

So she held her tongue as Sherlock was happy to have Molly working with him again, and John was regretting many things. But he was overall happy that Sherlock was happy and working on cases as always.

Well, not as always, exactly. They had Aveen now, who Molly adored when they first met. She had commented on her being so cute with her button nose and the fact that the boys loved her, too. Sherlock pulled off his gloves as he 'finished' deducing what 'poison' this was. John could tell he simply missed Molly.

Sherlock hadn't told Molly the result, because of course he already knew and she wouldn't believe him even if he told her. But Molly just praised Aveen for how amazing she was. Aveen was showing off as well, showing her knowledge and her strength with hanging off of John's arm as he picked her up by her fisted hand.

John just laughed when she used him as a pull up bar and she giggled when Molly tickled her. Molly was good with kids, as well as John and Sherlock only got along with her because she wasn't like any other child he'd ever met before. She seemed so different, yet so normal.

Sherlock didn't question, knowing there were weirder children out there. But he still wondered why she was interested in things kids usually don't even bother with. They all have the attention span of a goldfish.

Molly said goodbye to Sherlock and John with hugs and she planted a huge kiss on Aveen's forehead, saying she'd love to have her help with some experiments if Sherlock and John would allow her sometime. She jumped up and down with excitement and John said he'd think about it.

But when they left, and the twilight was setting in, there was a black car parked out front of the building. Sherlock rolled his eyes as Mycroft was leaning on it, "Sherlock," he greeted, "I need to speak to you," he explained.

John nodded as he took Aveen a few feet down the sidewalk and sat on the curb with her in his lap and they watched the cars go by as John waited for Mycroft to unhand his lover.

"Dearest brother," he twirled his umbrella, "For what happened two days ago, I am truly sorry," he admitted.

"Oh? And what happened that you would be sorry for?" Sherlock spat. He knew Mycroft was just informing him that he knew.

"I'm sorry that you're not exactly yourself anymore. And I'd like to warn you of your actions. John could be hurt and Aveen wouldn't like it much if her father died, now would she?" he asked.

"What exactly do you think I'd do?" Sherlock snapped and Mycroft simply raised one eyebrow at him.

"It's what you won't do that makes me worry," he stated, the umbrella stilling and Anthea peaking out of the window.

"Sir? We have to go," she said politely. Mycroft nodded as the door was opened and he slid in beside Anthea. She was typing on her phone as they drove off and Sherlock was stalking back to John and Aveen.

"What was that about?" John asked.

"He knows," Sherlock tapped his neck where there were barely visible scars from the other day, and John nodded. Now Aveen officially knew Sherlock was one of them. But she didn't hate him, she simply pushed back the fact that he was what she despised and loved him for being Sherlock.

John stood as Sherlock hailed a cab and John picked up Aveen from the curb as on parked in front of them. Sherlock recited their address as Aveen leaned into John and Sherlock simply sat up straight and said nothing, thinking.

He knew his brother would know, but he was wishing he would somehow not find out, because that was one person he didn't want to have teasing him about it. His brother teased him about everything. He may not seem that childish, oh but he was. Sherlock wasn't far behind, though.

When Sherlock first met John, Mycroft teased him about a 'happy announcement', which could happen, but at that point in time, no! He just needs to keep his mouth shut, always. Not sometimes, always. Sherlock sighed as he relaxed into himself.

John released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when Sherlock finally relaxed in his seat and wasn't scaring him by staring straight ahead like that. But just as John was about to ask a question, they stopped and he paid as they stepped out.

Aveen grinned when she knew John and Sherlock couldn't see her face. She knew what Sherlock was, and she knew that she should hate him, like her mother had hated his kind, but how could she hate him? She was almost a complete replica of him.

Even some of her looks were the same as his. She quit grinning like that when John came up behind her and patted her on the head as he opened the door to their flat. Sherlock had seen the mood about Aveen change lately and he wondered what was going on that she was a little quieter now.

Maybe she was so different because she isn't really just a normal kid? No, that doesn't make sense. Sherlock would have noticed the blood if she was a Vampire, so what then? Were there other creatures out there that were of legend that are actually real? Don't be absurd, Vampires can't be the only ones.

Sherlock decided he would have to visit Mary again, and soon. Maybe he'd bring John, and leave Aveen to Mrs. Hudson. He knew it was a little selfish, but Aveen wasn't that much trouble, and Mrs. Hudson already took care of Sherlock as if he were her own. And if she can take care of Sherlock, she can handle Aveen.

Sherlock asked, "John?" as he plopped in his chair, toeing off his shoes and socks. John hummed in response as he did the same, "Can I ask you something?" he wasn't sure.

Aveen left, bored. Sherlock eyed her movements and there was definitely something there that Sherlock hadn't taken the time to notice before. But he looked back to John as he was told, "Anything," assuring him to ask.

"Can we visit Mary? Sometime soon? Maybe tomorrow, actually? I have questions," he explained.

John's eyes almost bulged, then he narrowed them, "Questions?" he asked suspiciously.

"About my kind and if there are other species that were believed to only be legend yet aren't," he made sure to keep Aveen from hearing.

"Oh, that-," he was about to agree, "but Sherlock, Aveen," he pointed out.

"Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock countered. John sighed, reluctantly nodding a yes. Sherlock smiled a small smile that made John return it as Aveen trudged back down the stairs, but before she could reach the kitchen, John snatched her in his arms, and tickled her.

She giggled, "S-Stop!" and John chuckled as she squirmed and he let go. She continued her trek to the kitchen, getting a glass of milk. Definitely peculiar. Sherlock stood, leaning in to where he could study her movements once again. What was he missing?

There was something that he couldn't quite see, and he hated it. John didn't know why he was staring at Aveen, "Sherlock?" he asked, curious.

He sat beside John as he observed her putting away the milk. As she chugged, "Can't you see how different she is to other children?" he asked.

"Sherlock, what are you saying? She's not a freak," he defended her instantly.

"No, but she's definitely not normal," Sherlock said as she slipped the glass in the sink and walked to where John and Sherlock were staring at her. She shot them a questioning glance.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. Sherlock could see it now, but he couldn't name it. What was this? What was this something?

Sherlock shook his head, deciding he would figure it out later. John looked at Sherlock and his eyes wandered to Aveen where he tried to see what was so different. He couldn't, she was a cute kid, though. John placed his hands to his knees as he asked, "Telly? I need to make dinner," he handed the remote to Aveen.

She nodded as Sherlock decided to give up on waiting, and he studied her as she watched telly. Eventually she glanced at him, and gave him a grin. She was almost saying, 'I know something you don't know,' and she was enjoying it.

Sherlock started a small conversation with her, making sure the sizzle of what John was cooking blocked them out, "What are you hiding little one?" he asked, using a term of endearment in hopes that she would spill.

She smirked, "Wouldn't you like to know?" and she went back to the television. _You little brat._ But John called that he was done and they should get to the table. "What about daddy?" Aveen asked John when there were only two plates.

"He doesn't eat much," he flattened his lips as they all sat, Sherlock still wanted to be there with John. He always wanted to be there. She gave a 'suspicious' look to Sherlock, but the glint in her eye said she knew. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her, knowing John was too distracted with his food to notice.

She busied herself as well, finishing everything, down to the last bit of syrup. "Best breakfast for dinner ever," she said as she kissed John on the cheek and skipped to her room to grab night clothes and a towel to get a shower.

John finished with Sherlock watching him, as always, and he slipped the dished from the table in the sink. He planned on doing them later, they were stacking up; even with Sherlock not eating. Sherlock noticed and scowled at them for giving him less time with John, but they walked back to the living room where they left the telly on.

John drug Sherlock to the couch and they cuddled until Aveen came out, dripping wet. John took her in his lap and she smiled as the brush dug into her hair, pulling out knots she knew she had. But she didn't even flinch, what was with that?

Sherlock kept staring hard at her, trying to lift the veil from his darkened eyes, but he couldn't quite get it over his head and see her properly. He knew there was something he wasn't seeing, but how could he see it if he didn't know what to look for?

When she left to go to bed, finally, "Sherlock," John started, "you should stop staring. I think she's a little creeped out by now," he chuckled.

Sherlock kept staring until she reached the stairs to her room, then looked to John, "She isn't," he said simply, wanting to add the fact that she's playing a game with him until he figures out just what she is, if not a human child.

Or maybe she is a child, but she's still definitely not human, not completely at least. Maybe she's something to do with magic? She can't be anything that has to eat or drink differently, because Sherlock would have noticed. Sherlock didn't panic that she would try to hurt anyone, if that was her goal, they were wide open. But what else is she trying to accomplish?

Judging from her knowledge about things, she may be seven years of age to her species, but to humans, she has to be at least eleven years of age. Her strength and will power showed that, as well as her intelligence. So then what species is so advanced that they have humans beat by at least three or four years?

Ugh! This is so confusing! Plus, there was the fact that Sherlock had little knowledge of supernatural creatures and only knew the very few that his mum would read to him about at night. He sat beside John about to go into deep into his mind palace again, then John's sigh and him leaving is what brought him back.

"John?" this stops John. He didn't expect Sherlock to ask for him. But he spins around slowly, and he hums, staring into Sherlock's eyes, his brows furrowing. "Where exactly do you think you're going?" he purred, standing up.

That voice made John's hair stand on end, it was deep and seductive and… sexy as hell! He recovered, but only to have Sherlock stand and pull him onto the couch with him again. Sherlock put John in his lap, and kissed his neck, "Sherlock, what are you doing?" John asked.

"Thinking, shut up and let me work," he explained. This wasn't helping him think about Aveen, though. It made him focus on John, just the trembling soldier in his arms, trembling from his kisses and he grinned into each one.

John felt Sherlock's teeth scrape over his skin and he whimpered, "Stop it, you'll wake Aveen," he playfully slapped Sherlock's thigh under him. Sherlock stopped, but leaned back into the couch, pulling John with him and they laid into the cushions.

John leaned back into Sherlock and hummed in contentment. He really wasn't up for anything sexual, yet. They still had Aveen to worry about. He was also still a little worn out from the day. Sherlock turning worried him, and what's more, it stressed him out to think his lover was going through something without him.

Sherlock's arms came around John's torso and he tucked them under John's as their fingers from both hands linked together. "Have you ever noticed how small your hands are compared to mine?" Sherlock teased and nuzzled into John's neck.

"Thanks," he said sarcastically, "I do like your hands, though. Little pleasure makers, they are," his voice was deep and Sherlock loved that comment.

He squeezed John's hands in his own, "I know," he rumbled, "Yours aren't so bad themselves. Plus, they're so adorable," he kissed John's cheek and John smirked.

John turned around and faced his lover under him, "I love you," he said, not knowing what else to say. Sherlock's breath hitched at these three little words.

He loved hearing them from John, "I love you, too," he smiled, making eye contact with John's lovely shade of blue. John noticed that Sherlock had actually been a little surprised that John just randomly spoke those words, and he smiled at the fact that he meant it.

John's nose touched Sherlock's, but he couldn't resist when he tilted his head and Sherlock's lips rushed to meet John's. This kiss was slow, passionate, loving and never meant to be full of lust, and it wasn't. The sound of the disconnection left John pleased, he loved the feeling of Sherlock on him, or under him, or even feeling him at a distance.

John had always loved to touch someone he loved. It was strange, but he loved the way that person felt under his fingers. And that was when he realized he loved that with Mary, but it was almost nothing compared to what it felt like with Sherlock. He instantly felt guilty for thinking such a thing, but Sherlock saw this and distracted him with more kisses.

Small and furtive, just little soft pecks that brought John's chest closer to get more as Sherlock relaxed and John laid on top of him, listening to that abnormal, yet complete heartbeat. It beat slow, steady and every two seconds, (John had to time it) Sherlock's heart would assure him it was still beating. It was still loving him, and Sherlock was still alive and well.

It also reminded him that they needed sleep, because John, at least, was drowsy. He pulled back and put a quick peck to Sherlock's cheek, then proceeded to pull himself and Sherlock off of the couch. "Come on, love," that term of endearment made Sherlock smile as John linked their fingers and drug him back to their room.

Hmmmm, they both loved the sound of that: their room. Even if Aveen hadn't moved in, John would probably have moved into Sherlock's room anyway. He swore he'd never sleep without Sherlock ever again. He probably couldn't anyway.

Sherlock closed the door as John stripped down and changed, slipping in after he was done. As soon as his head hit the pillow, his eyes closed. He didn't fall asleep, but he heard Sherlock repeat his actions, and sighed with a hum as Sherlock slid in after him, understanding that they weren't doing anything. Not tonight at least.

Sherlock's arms fell lovingly around John's shoulders and their legs tangled together loosely as John felt Sherlock relax once again. He exhaled deeply, showing he was content. John cuddled into the arm under his cheek and fell asleep, whispering, "I love you," as his last words to Sherlock.

Sherlock cuddled into his neck, "I love you, too," and he fell asleep as well.

* * *

"Sherlock," John nudged him. "Sherlock, come on, you can't sleep all day," he put kisses to Sherlock's face as Sherlock didn't want to wake up. He was dreaming this time, and it was a good dream. A very, very, good dream.

He rolled over, completely awake, but wanting to tease John now, he mumbled something that he knew sounded like, "Not finished yet, mmmm," he snuggled into the pillow.

John wrapped himself around Sherlock, "Yes, you are. Now get up, or I will make you," John teased as his fingers made shapes on Sherlock's stomach, where he had slid his hand up Sherlock's shirt.

Sherlock didn't say anything, he just rolled over and straddled John's hips in between his thighs, and his lips were on John's before the blond could do anything to stop him. Sherlock's hands went up John's shirt, feeling his perfect skin until Sherlock was content and he pulled back, sitting in John's lap.

"I'm awake," he smiled.

John shook his head, "Yeah, I can see that. So, when do you plan to visit Mary?" he finally asked, glancing at the time. Ugh, no wonder he was so tired, he had an hour this time.

"After you get home from work, you still have to go, you know," he poked John's stomach.

John sighed, "I know. Shut up," he pulled Sherlock down by his stupid red robe and planted a kiss that Sherlock took and made grow into a deeper one. John moaned and Sherlock mirrored it, their tongues tangling together.

"You do have tomorrow off, though, and then on Tuesday, Aveen has to go to school again. Next week is going to be lonely," Sherlock complained.

"Don't worry, love. I won't be gone all day, and neither will Aveen. Besides, Lestrade can give you cases," he suggested.

"Those aren't the same without you there," he pouted.

"I'm not quitting my job because you can't get a grip on yourself. Just," he pecked Sherlock's lips with his own, "don't ruin anything," he said as he tried to get up.

But Sherlock had his wrists pinned to the bed before John knew any better of it, "You do still have an hour," he teased John's neck with whispers of kisses.

"Then why don't you join me in the shower?" he suggested. He finally got up and Sherlock followed to the bathroom where they stripped what was left as John turned on the water. He pulled Sherlock in after himself and shoved him under the spray, soaking his hair.

Once Sherlock's curls were thoroughly soaked, he was confused as John grabbed his leg, pulling it up to his hip. He spun Sherlock under himself, "Kiss me, detective," Sherlock's eyes widened and he suddenly smiled as his arms went around John's neck and he pressed his lips to the soldier's.

John loved this kiss, they were completely naked, and they were getting wet, and somehow all of this made it that much better. They pulled away for breath and stood when Sherlock squirted shampoo in John's hair, massaging his scalp afterwards, rubbing it in.

John moaned and leaned back into Sherlock. He could feel himself getting aroused just from Sherlock's fingers on his skin. Sherlock pressed into John's backside and pushed him forward under the spray as it washed the soap from his hair.

John's lips were hungrily pressed to Sherlock as he slammed him to the wall, his hands scaling Sherlock's sides. Sherlock moaned when John took control, he loved it when the soldier came out. He grunted when John's lips went to his neck, nipping and biting, making marks.

Sherlock couldn't help the fangs that were poking at his bottom lip as he moved John and him to under the water again, John's back pressed to the wall under it. One of John's legs wrapped around Sherlock's hips, bringing him closer, and their groins rubbed against one another as their lips met again. Wet and hungry, sloppy and full of lust.

Sherlock tried to keep his fangs from hurting John as the kisses would get deeper, and then be simply kisses. And somehow, there was love in the tangled lust. It was a loving lust instead of a lust in love. There's a difference, and it's hard to explain, but right now, they were only focused on the hard part. (Hehe…)

Sherlock moaned and John's breath stopped as he hissed in pleasure at Sherlock's cock rubbing up against his own. But when he realized that Sherlock was taking control, he flipped their positions. Sherlock's chest pressed up against the wall and John's hand on his arse, "I don't think so," he teased.

Sherlock growled and it turned to a muffled moan when John's fingers played with his entrance, pushing in slightly and pulling back out. "Stop teasing," he groaned, slightly slurred from the fangs, and John chuckled as he slipped one finger in, scraping at the walls of Sherlock.

He pushed another in as he pushed into Sherlock's prostate. Sherlock cried out in pleasure as the sensation went all over, right down to his toes and he shivered. John pushed in again, making Sherlock hiss at him with how good that felt. He almost bit into his tongue.

John let out a breathy chuckle as he pressed his chest to Sherlock's back, "Tell me you want it," he rubbed himself against Sherlock, teasing ever more.

"I want it," Sherlock whimpered, still slurred.

"Tell me you need it," he rubbed again.

"I need it, now!" he demanded.

John's hand smacked over Sherlock's bum, "Sh, I do the demanding," he massaged at the mark he obviously would have left. "And I demand you love me," as he pushed in. Sherlock gasped at feeling himself around John.

"I l-love you, J-John," he stuttered and moaned, pushing back into John. John was such a fucking tease, because he barely moved his hips, sliding further in and further out each time. Eventually he was to the point where he almost slipped out and he pounded back in, expertly hitting Sherlock's prostate and he cried out again.

The electricity that sparkled over his body was too much to ignore. His hand drifted down to touch himself, but John smacked it away, repeating what he was doing, "I want you to cum with only me inside you. Can you do that?" John asked into Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock nodded whimpering in pleasure as John just continued his work and hit his prostate harder this time around. He was aching as John just kept the same pace, not changing anything. But Sherlock was getting closer to the edge, with every thrust, and it was amazing.

He didn't know it was possible to get off with just the feel of John inside him, but apparently it was. Because his vision was dead for a moment as he spilled over himself and onto the wall he was pressed to.

Hearing Sherlock's scream brought John to come with Sherlock, inside him, filling him with all he could give. Sherlock slumped to his knees as they gave out and he couldn't stand anymore. John knelt behind him, the water running over them as they panted. Sherlock's fangs luckily retracted as the feeling of need left.

"I never imagined, that that could be so good," John admitted.

Sherlock was glad the bloodlust was gone, "Tell me about it," he joked. John hugged him from behind, whispering those there words into Sherlock's ear. Sherlock leaned into him, loving those words as he repeated them to John. They were very satisfied as they stood again and washed the cum and sweat from one another.

* * *

"What did you do to him?" Aveen asked, watching Sherlock slightly, very slightly, almost unnoticeably limping around the kitchen, but it was fading from the healing his body was doing. Besides, it was only just ten minutes ago that they had done that.

"I made him feel good," John purred and Sherlock smiled wide, shivering at the memory. Aveen shook her head as she finished munching on her cereal and just didn't even want to wonder what that meant. She knew where babies came from, but she didn't know anything about… anything else.

She may be at a higher intellect, but she still didn't know about sex. She was sure she didn't want to, either. She tipped her bowl into the sink once she was finished and asked what they were doing today.

"Not much," Sherlock answered, sipping coffee, "I'm taking you back to the lab today, though. I have a few experiments to finish," he explained. Sherlock's limp was gone now as Aveen blew up in excitement, and he simply sat down in his chair.

"I get to see Molly?!" she asked. Sherlock smiled, nodding. John knew that if he had never come around, Sherlock and Molly would have done something by now. She and Sherlock clicked and they would have found each other in the dark.

But John had stepped in their way. He felt terribly guilty for what he had done, but he told himself to stop, because Sherlock would have told him it wasn't his guilt to feel. He couldn't help it though, Molly loved Sherlock so much, and Sherlock loves her, no matter what he says about denying it.

Sherlock saw that look on John's face, and knew he was thinking about Molly and him again, "John," he rubbed the back of his fingers on John's standing forearm. He looked to Sherlock, setting his cup down, "Stop thinking about it. Besides, you need to get to work," he was bored already with the thought that John wasn't going to be with him all day.

John sighed, "Right. Right, and we have that thing afterwards. Ugh, it's exhausting just thinking about it," he complained, but rose to his feet.

Aveen smiled as she went to grab her shoes and Sherlock followed John to the door, as always. He decided he would always follow John to the door. He liked kissing John goodbye. And kiss they did, even exchanging a quick tongue before John slipped out the door, as always.

Sherlock sighed as he found Aveen waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. She had her raven hair pulled back into a pony tail, done by John, and a barrette in her hair that was just a bunch of blue sparkles. Her blue eyes lit up as Sherlock opened the door, and they shuffled out.

John was still standing at the curb, almost pouting as Sherlock chuckled, "Having troubles?" he purred out from behind John as the soldier jumped.

"Jesus, Sherlock. Don't do that to me," he warned as Sherlock simply wrapped his arms around John's waist for a brief moment, then let go to call a cab. John hated that he could do it on the first try.

Sherlock recited his address first, knowing John would simply say his and not even move. When they stopped, Sherlock kissed his doctor a final time and Aveen and him unloaded in front of the familiar building. The cab drove off and he opened the doors, smiling brightly as he was getting to see Molly.

For some reason, everyone loves Molly, but she just can't see it. She wants Sherlock to love her romantically, but he can't. One, he doesn't feel that way about her, two, John… Sherlock loved how he could just say John's name as an explanation to some things he didn't feel like explaining.

Aveen beamed as Molly wrapped her arms around the child, swinging her round and round as they both giggled. Molly loved Aveen already, and vice versa. Aveen thought Molly was a beautiful woman, and wondered why Sherlock loved John and not her.

Aveen loved them both, though. So, she kinda had no room to judge. And she finally got to help with the experiments today! She was so happy…

* * *

**I'm sorry, I had to make Aveen something. She couldn't just have been innocent. I hope you look forward to their meeting with Mary. Sherlock has questions... But anyway, reviews? **


	7. Chapter 7

Seven: I Insist!

John and Sherlock were just going to leave Aveen at the flat while they left, but she had spoken up, "I know where you're going, and I want to go, too," she insisted. They were just going to leave her with Mrs. Hudson.

"You can't, and if you know where we're going, you know why you can't," Sherlock confirmed as John just raised his eyebrows at her.

"I insist! I'll cry if you don't!" she threatened, her lips puckering. Sherlock rolled his eyes as John drew his eyebrows together, thinking she wouldn't even be able to. But her eyes watered, "Please!" she begged.

She hung on Sherlock as he was about to yell at her to get off, but John saw that tension in his shoulders, and slapped the back of Sherlock's curls, "Don't start," he warned. Sherlock just turned to him as if he couldn't believe that John had hit him.

Aveen couldn't help it, she giggled. But returned to 'crying' when Sherlock turned back to her. "Okay, fine!" John picked her up from Sherlock's knees. He drug Sherlock and Aveen down the stairs and out the door, a little peeved that he had to bring Aveen, and a little bit more pissed that it was Mary they were going to see.

* * *

Aveen wondered what Mary looked like and if she was adorable like Molly. She also wondered why John had loved Sherlock so much more than Mary, a woman. Aveen just couldn't wrap her head around the fact that two boys loved each other more than the women that were and probably still are all for them.

They stopped in front of where Mary had been living and John instantly felt guilty. It wasn't a rundown place, but Sherlock and John's stay was definitely better than hers. She ushered them in as she knew they'd be here.

She was still nursing a head ache, a small one, but still a head ache. "Why'd you drink it if you knew it would give that effect?" Sherlock asked, not saying it was blood.

Mary was at first confused, but Sherlock tapped his neck and she instantly understood. "It tasted good at the time, and it was for a good cause, so shut up and be glad I saved your dumb ass," she said.

John looked around as Aveen gaped at the woman in front of her. She was beautiful, like Molly, and John threw her away? What was with these two and having amazing women on them and they just throw them off for each other? Aveen shook her head at this.

Mary finally looked to the small child, "No need to hide it from her," she pointed out as John definitely looked nervous around Mary. Could it possibly have been the fact that she could snap him in two, and the fact that he had left her? And that that only made it worse? Shouldn't she be pissed at him, by the way?

"John refuses to see that she's definitely-." Sherlock started.

"A Wicken," Mary cuts him off to finish, knowing he didn't know yet. "Only people who aren't human can see it, but how did it take you so long to see?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. John only had one thought running through his head, was he the only fucking human in this?!

Sherlock simply pushed off the comment and scrunched his nose in misunderstanding, "What in God's name is a Wicken?" John almost face palmed. Even he knew this one. But John let Mary explain.

"Wickens are human, but they're a little more advanced. They're like Vampires, except they don't drink blood. They're stronger, smarter, faster, the whole nine yards," she explained.

"Then how are they different from us?" Sherlock was so stupid in this situation. He had no idea about creatures of legend. He had never read up on anything like this. He didn't expect it to be important.

"Because they aren't descendents of Demons. As I said, they are humans, but they get their power from nature. Native Americans had the right ideas with that one," she looked to the floor, "sorta. Anyway, the point is, they're different from us, and shouldn't be feared actually. People think they use magic, and a form of it, yes, but. It's not evil and it's not what people want to believe."

Aveen beamed that Mary was defending her. "I was waiting for you to figure it out, honestly. You seemed to be struggling and it looked funny, so I let you huff and puff. My human age, mentally, would be around ten, eleven. And even for a Wicken, I'm intelligent, so don't underestimate me," the raven haired squirt warned.

She was definitely closer to eleven, with that attitude. And Sherlock rolled his eyes at her. But Mary noticed John practically hiding in the corner as she said, "Tea?" and they all hummed a 'Yes, please?' she smiled and nodded as she shuffled to the small kitchen.

But Sherlock followed her to the stove where water was being heated, "How many other creatures of legend are real?" he asked, leaning on the counter. She sighed and thought about it, pursing her lips like John does.

"A lot. There are some things that will always be of legend, like Santa Clause. But things like Werewolves, and Jinn, and many, many others are real," she admitted.

"Jinn?" Sherlock's face scrunched up in thought as he tried to figure out what the hell.

"Another word for Genie? Jesus, how uneducated are you?" she asked, a little disappointed that Sherlock knew so little.

"Look, I didn't think it'd be important to read about mythical creatures that scare you into bed at night," he explained, "didn't think I'd become one, either," he mumbled under his breath, as if it was so horrible that he wasn't human. John and Aveen crowded in the kitchen as Mary was about to yell at Sherlock for being such an ass.

Who was he to judge the creatures who had no control of what they become? Mary didn't much like Sherlock right now. But when she looked to a nervous John, she smiled. He wasn't trying to show that he really didn't want to be here, but you could tell.

And the only reason he didn't want to be here, was because of the heart he broke. Although, she felt she understood why John left. She actually, in the past, had done the same to a young man. She didn't leave him for another woman, but she left for someone she loved more.

And honestly, it didn't matter that it was another man, Mary was happy that John was happy. She loved him, she really did, and that was why she wanted him to be happy, not just hers. It would have been better if he was hers and happy. But where he was now, he was in love, and he was happy. And who was she to ruin that?

She smiled at him sadly, and he returned said smile, confused that she wasn't hating him. Aveen simply stood, a little bored and Sherlock mirrored her look of boredom. He had questions, but he couldn't ask them with Mary being so consumed with John. Although, with that one, Sherlock couldn't blame her.

The kettle whistled to them and Mary jumped to remove it from the stove and Sherlock reached for the cupboard where he knew the tea was stored. John didn't even question when he knew where everything was. But Aveen was intrigued. He gave her a smile and she cocked a brow at him.

Mary had four cups, and there were tea bags in each one. She figured Aveen might want some, too. She poured as Sherlock picked up the first cup she poured into, and instead of drinking it himself, he handed it to Aveen.

She was so confused, why would he be so selfless with this and not anything else? But she accepted said cup, and sipped cautiously. It tasted good, though. A little bitter, but tea is always like that. Then it was John who he handed a cup to. John also, was confused, but Sherlock gave a small smile as he made sure their fingers brushed together.

John had a pale blush growing and Mary smiled. She loved that look on John, she also loved when she could make it, but not anymore she guessed. But God, did she wish that were still true. John was embarrassed that he always blushed so easily, but Sherlock just smiled sweetly, or as sweetly as he could manage.

Again, Mary saw what she had given John before, and so much more came from Sherlock. She was jealous, no doubt, but she couldn't do anything about it. She subconsciously rubbed her stomach and sat in her kitchen chair as John sat facing her and Aveen sat in his lap. She looked to him with endearment, and Mary smiled.

How many people love John? It was easy to do, and hard to stop. Mary wanted it to stop. John saw the sadness flash through her eyes, and she hid it again as Sherlock leaned against the counter and broke the longest and worst silence in their lives.

"Mary, I have many questions for you," he stated. She nodded and looked to him.

"They would be?" she asked.

"Well, for one, and this may be awkward for someone who isn't me, but why is drinking blood while having sex so intimate?" he had to ask. John squirmed in his seat and Aveen just sat, confused. Because she didn't want to know why he was asking.

But Mary answered with what she understood as the answer, "Because you're not only taking advantage of their pleasures, but their blood as well. Drinking blood is a way to survive, but doing it while having sex is taking advantage of the one you love completely." She nodded to confirm it, and sipped on her tea, waiting for another question.

John understood the answer given as well as Sherlock, but Aveen just ignored it. She decided to space out and not remember that they were talking about sex. So Sherlock asked another question, "Who exactly are the Elders? I know they're Demons and whatnot, but why them? why not have someone else watch the Vampires?"

"Because they were the ones that created us. Yes, they pass the role to their children, because they do die eventually, but it's because they were the idiots who created us in the first place. They felt it their duty to watch us," Mary answered without thinking about it. She knew a lot about this, she had nothing better to do in school, because it was easy for her. So she studied her background.

"I know this might be a little personal," since when did he care? "But, when were you turned?" he asked. He hid behind his cup, ready for her to shout at him, or simply not answer.

So he was a little surprised when she said, "When I was ten. It was hell, but I had the one who turned me, and I considered her my mother, seeing as my biological bitch was a drug addict. But my sire died when I was sixteen and I've been on my own since then. Well, there was my boss, but he doesn't count," and she wanted to add the fact that he was dead, but she didn't.

"Right," Sherlock nodded, knowing what she meant by boss, "Sire? As in the one who turned you?" Mary nodded. "Do you have a book or something about the other creatures that are out there? I want to know more," he said simply. He was sure she'd say for him to just go to a fucking library, but instead, she got up and retreated to her small room and came back out with a leather bound book.

She handed it to him, and it was heavy, but not as much as he would have expected. "It was my sire's. She gave it to me, but I already read everything in it. If I don't get it back, you die," she said emotionlessly. Sherlock didn't doubt her ability to murder him if he didn't give the book back.

"How much does it cover?" he asked, wondering if these were the only ones she found or if they were all of them.

"As much as there are in Britain," she answered.

"This is only in Britain?" he asked, surprised that there were so many. He flipped the book open and looked at the scribbles Mary's sire called her handwriting.

"Yes. As I said, there are a lot. But you don't need to know about all of them, do you?" she asked, sitting again. John gawked at how much there was and Aveen wasn't surprised. She herself knew that there were many legends, and therefore many creatures that followed them.

Sherlock flipped through random pages, and closed it, looking back to Mary and thanking her. He also followed it with, "John, Aveen, we need to go now." Aveen didn't want to, really. But John welcomed the idea of leaving. He really was nervous around Mary, and he needed out.

Sherlock saw how desperate he was and rolled his eyes, how could John be so stupid? Mary didn't hate him, but she was jealous. Aveen hugged Mary, whispering, "I'm sorry he was so stupid and didn't see how beautiful you are," she hugged her tighter and let go as Mary almost cried.

But she nodded and Aveen gave a small smile. Sherlock was a little confused as to why Aveen liked Mary so much, but John was already out the door. Sherlock followed and Aveen was trailing behind. She waved one last time as the door was closed and Mary let one single tear escape, but wiped it away, blaming her hormones for her being so weak.

You're not weak, Mary. You're simply heartbroken, it happens. It's not okay, and I won't tell you it is, but I can tell you that it will be okay in the end. Besides, I have something nice planned for the boys and the next few days will be worth keeping your life…

* * *

John closed the door behind himself and Aveen as Sherlock ran up the stairs, that stupid book in his mitts. John knew this would take his attention for quite some time, so he simply walked up the stairs with Aveen following.

Aveen threw off her shoes and went to the kitchen where John already was, deciding he would make something simple tonight. He was just hungry. Not sure for what, just hungry. And he knew Aveen needed food as well, and he hated that Sherlock didn't have to eat.

But when John finished making macaroni and cheese, Sherlock was still buried in the book, when he sat at the table with John by his side. John smiled through the milky cheese when Sherlock also put a hand to John's thigh, saying he was paying attention enough to know John was by his side.

Aveen didn't take any notice to Sherlock's actions, she just finished, grabbed her night clothes and took a short shower. John finished when he heard the water running and Sherlock perked up, knowing John would have something to say.

Sherlock was already halfway through the book when he put it down to watch John. He kept watching when Aveen came out and he brushed her, as always. He was so careful with her, as if she really was his daughter.

Well, she is now, I guess. But he's so gentle and caring when it shouldn't matter. Sherlock admired John's personality, because there were so many versions of it. When he was happy, when he was sad, when he was… lusting, when he was angry, God forbid, and when he was just tired.

He seemed to be a different person in each, but he was John in all of them at the same time. Sherlock was only one person, while John was many and Sherlock loved studying each one. Aveen was the same as Sherlock in that sense. She only really had one mood, and she was, no offense to her, a little boring.

But John, he was so interesting Sherlock had to stare. And when he wasn't staring, he was listening or feeling. If John left, or died, Sherlock would die. Maybe not literally, but his person now, would return to who he was before. He dreaded the thought of not having John, but what if it happened?

Could he pull himself together enough to care for Aveen? Or would he retreat to himself and continue the cases, ignoring everything else? He didn't want to think about this right now. All he could think about was John's fingers as he ran them through Aveen's long and pretty hair. And how he wanted those fingers on him.

He almost blushed at the thought of him thinking about John like that when they weren't completely alone. But he couldn't help it. He loved John, and with that, came the lust. He also realized that that was what went wrong with John's girlfriends. They only wanted his body, and when they couldn't have that, they left.

But Sherlock wanted it all. He wanted John's smile, his eyes, his walk, his hair. He wanted John's touch, first and foremost right now. Listen to him, he sounds like a girl! He shook his head slightly and John gave him a sideways smirk when he noticed the pink Sherlock had building.

Sherlock picked up the book as Aveen left and he tried to continue reading, but bit his lip when he couldn't stop thinking about John's… never mind. It didn't matter.

John noticed that Sherlock was trying to hide his body's reactions to John, and John smiled fully when he stood and ran his hand through Sherlock's curls. Sherlock almost purred, that felt so good right now. John grinned as he made Sherlock look at him.

He planted upside down kisses on the detective's lips and smirked into each one. Sherlock whimpered with the thoughts going through his head, and the fact that they were going straight to his nether regions with the kisses attached.

Damn… John's hands wandered from Sherlock's curls and he pulled back to look Sherlock in the eye as his fingers made circles on Sherlock's chest. The silk of the shirt rubbing in between them made both of them harder. The black in Sherlock's bluish grey expanded slightly and John chuckled as his digits worked on bringing Sherlock's shirt from his waistband. Sherlock could see that John's pupils were doing the same as his own.

They separated when Sherlock let the book fall from his hands to the table and he stood, taking John in his arms and tipping him back slightly with the power of the kiss he put to John's lips. It was deepened briefly before Sherlock pulled back, breathing heavily and John almost panting.

Then John was reminded, "Sherlock, Aveen will hear us," he said, knowing this was going a lot farther than just a few kisses.

"That's why we go to our room and turn on your favourite music and she won't hear us," he threw out his method to John's ears as his lips moved to John's neck.

"But that'll keep her up as well," he reasoned.

"Would you rather her hear the music, or you moaning my name," he teased and asked at the same time, his teeth now exposed and he was nipping at John's earlobe.

"Point made," and Sherlock followed John to their room where Sherlock's fangs were poking his lip as John dragging him made him harder.

Sherlock gathered his speakers and John his phone. Sherlock snatched it from his hands as John glared. But Sherlock picked something he knew John would love at the moment. He plugged the speakers in and they were loud, but not too loud. They would cover most moans, but if Sherlock made John scream, that'd be another story.

But John was surprised at what Sherlock had chosen for him, playing through the speakers on the nightstand. Also something he hadn't remembered he even had on his phone. He guessed Sherlock had heard John maybe humming it before, but he didn't know as it was Skillet on the speakers.

The first song to play was Whispers In The Dark, and John loved it. It was actually kinda sweet for some of the songs this band does. _Despite the lies that you're making, your love is mine for the taking… _

That one line was so true as John's lips were on Sherlock's again. He smiled into this kiss as Sherlock's fangs were barely in the way. Even if they had been, John wouldn't have cared. He loved this man, and if he was a Vampire, oh well.

John's lips and teeth drifted to Sherlock's perfect neck, where they kissed and nipped and left a love mark. Sherlock's head rolled on his shoulders and gave John more skin as his shirt was undone and on the floor before he could protest.

John's flannel joined Sherlock's on the floor and John's fingers were on the button to Sherlock's trousers as he hadn't noticed that Sherlock already had John's undone. He grinned at Sherlock's fingers on him, and it was wiped from his face with a moan when Sherlock's fingers were over his groin then Sherlock's palm, palming him through his pants.

Those fingers were beautiful as John wanted them on his bare skin. He pushed Sherlock's trousers to the floor as Sherlock's other hand pulled down his own pants. The hand on John's groin drifted away and pulled off John's trousers and pants as well.

John was glad they didn't like wearing shoes and socks all the time, or they would have gotten in John and Sherlock's way right now. That would have been bad, or at least to them it would have been bad. Sherlock looked over John and decided that no matter what John said, he was more beautiful than anyone Sherlock had ever seen. Including himself.

"Amazing," he heard John gasp. John still couldn't get used to how perfect Sherlock's skin was, all the way down to his toes. Dipping and curving around the muscles on Sherlock's body and presenting the most breath taking Sherlock John had ever seen. Why hadn't he taken Sherlock before he Fell?

Sherlock's eyes were glued to John's shoulder now, studying the way the bullet had entered and exited. But when John's hand was drifting down, Sherlock remembered this moment, and he was instantly aching for John to touch him.

Sherlock's mind focused on the hand on his member and the music flooded his ears as the lyrics said to him, _My love is just waiting, to clothe you in crimson roses. _He moaned and sighed as John let go and pushed Sherlock into the covers of the bed under the back of his knees.

John kneeled in front of Sherlock, planting kisses on his way down, making Sherlock whimper once again in anticipation. He loved that noise as he parted Sherlock's knees with the palms of his hand and when his mouth landed on Sherlock's member, Sherlock's fingers threaded through John's hair.

He bit back moans when John's tongue tortured and his teeth were merciless when it came to pleasuring the detective. The heightened sense didn't help anything as he almost bit a hole in his lip. But he distracted his mouth with making little sighs instead of panting.

He was unraveling under John's fingers and his mouth. John looked back up at Sherlock, sliding his mouth off from the brief moment of it being impaled with Sherlock's member, and swallowing the precum he had dripping now. He grinned at Sherlock. He was on him in seconds as Sherlock's fingers couldn't help themselves and he took John's cock in hand and started pumping.

This left John panting, and moaning for more as Sherlock's other hand went around and stroked John's entrance, teasing. John reached for the nightstand and grabbed lube, throwing it at Sherlock, and he accepted coating his fingers as one slipped in easily.

John yelped in pleasure when Sherlock accidently pushed into his prostate on his first try. But now knowing it was there, the second finger pushed in and brushed over that bundle of nerves again, and John moaned into Sherlock's neck, where he had bitten down.

John was surprised he hadn't drawn blood by the time Sherlock added a third digit. He gasped, leaving saliva on Sherlock's skin where he had drooled a little. Sherlock chuckled when John's fingers were woven into his curls and pulling, trying to get him to just get it over with.

"Sherlock, I need…" he gasped when Sherlock rubbed against his entrance, teasing him to no end.

"Hm?" Sherlock purred in John's ear.

"Fucking fuck, Sherlock," he panted out, as his hands left Sherlock's curls, pushing on his chest to steady himself, "I need you inside me," he admitted.

"I love you," Sherlock said as he pushed in and he almost giggled at John's reaction. John wanted to return the three words, but he was breathless. Sherlock loved it as he kissed every inch of John's face and thrust in slow motions.

John moved his hips so he met Sherlock with each thrust. He loved feeling Sherlock inside him, feeling him move in such a sensational way. John's lips hungrily found Sherlock's and it was deepened as Sherlock hit John's sweet spot and he moaned, and had it not been inside Sherlock's mouth, it would have been so much louder.

Sherlock loved hearing and feeling that noise, and he made sure he hit it on every slow and agonizing thrust. John screamed moans each time. Sherlock's instinct to drink started surfacing as his fangs pressed into John's tongue.

John could feel Sherlock's hunger and he pulled his mouth off, leaning his head in a way that he could cuddle into Sherlock's jaw, and Sherlock had access to his neck. When Sherlock couldn't hold it back, he sank his teeth in as he heard the lyrics tell John what he felt.

_I must confess that I feel like a monster… _John heard this and knew Sherlock didn't care that the songs continued to play as John just kept his hips moving, and the friction in between their stomachs rubbed against John's erection as he gasped out moans and screams and Sherlock's name.

The blood filled Sherlock's mouth as he thrust up into John, a little harder now, but he continued when he heard John just moan and ask for, "M-more. Harder, Sherlock," he begged. Sherlock obliged as they were both so close…

Before they knew it, Sherlock was licking John's wound and they were oozing into and onto each other. John came so hard part of it was on Sherlock's mouth as he laughed in bliss. Sherlock licked John from his face and John blushed as he felt Sherlock fall out of him.

John cuddled into Sherlock's neck as he felt Sherlock licking, trying to get the blood from John's neck. "Sh-shower?" John managed, still coming round from his orgasm. It was powerful, and Sherlock's was as well. Somehow, drinking from John mad it better for both of them.

* * *

Sherlock felt over John's neck, no scars as the cuts had closed now. The water falling over them made the silence interesting. They had flipped off the music by now, and John loved how Sherlock knew him so well.

"Sherlock, I'm okay now," he moved Sherlock's fingers from his neck and placed them on his heart, "Do you feel this?" Sherlock nodded, his face unmoving, showing no emotion as he felt John's heartbeat under his fingertips. "It beats for you," he said sweetly.

Sherlock finally smiled, his hand falling from John's chest and to his wrist, where he felt John's pulse once more. John's lips brushed over Sherlock's pulse and he felt the slow but defined leaps coming from Sherlock's neck.

He nipped at it and went over the marks he left, wishing they'd disappear completely. He wasn't like other sex partners. Any serious marks he left, he felt guilty for. It wasn't marking his territory, it was cruel. But they were healing at an alarming rate, nonetheless. He still wished he could control himself more.

Sherlock ripped John's eyes from his 'injuries' and they landed on Sherlock's as he got closer. They locked gazes as Sherlock lips settled on John's and they never stopped looking into one another's eyes.

It was a little strange, but when they pulled back and Sherlock rested his forehead to John's, they smiled. This was perfect, and they wouldn't have it any other way…

* * *

Aveen had understood why Sherlock and John had the music on last night and she fell asleep to it actually. She loved that they had considered the fact that she was still awake, and she hadn't heard the one scream that had escaped the noise of the music playing.

She was glad she had gotten sleep, though. And she was happy because she understood that sex was a part of love, and if that was the case, they loved each other very, very much. She smiled through her breakfast as John was rushing around everywhere, trying to gather things because he had been called into work for an emergency.

Sherlock hated that stupid call, but he sighed as he followed John down the stairs as always. He kissed him goodbye, sweetly and John loved the sound of them parting and the tingle Sherlock left on his lips as he called a cab.

Sherlock closed the door and went back upstairs to meet Aveen's smile, "Have fun last night?" she teased.

"Shut up," Sherlock snapped, "it's not really any of your business," he then said calmly, realizing he had snapped and he was sorry. He never said he was sorry, but Aveen accepted the apology either way.

"Right," she nodded, "well, I've just got to say that you have amazing taste in music. I actually have a song stuck in my head," she hummed the part she had stuck. It was a good song. Sherlock smiled as he got a text a few hours later, from his brother and it changed everything…

* * *

John was just sitting there, minding his own business, when he heard the cabbie swear loudly as he tried to stop. "Hey, mate, what's going on?" he leaned forward and the cabbie just looked at him in the mirror.

"I can't stop," he said panicking. John ran a hand through his hair, he was instantly worried. He'd only ever had a problem with a car like this once before and he was trying to remember how he got out of it. Sherlock would know... Stop it! this is your problem, now solve it!

"Okay, um. Is it the brakes?" he asked. The cabbie nodded, irritated as they were nearing a stop light and he couldn't stop. "Just slow down then and eventually let go of the gas, it'll stop," he remembered and explained but he was still worried as the cabbie was shaking when he slowed down and he did eventually stop. The blood in their veins slowed as they settled.

They stopped in the shoulder, as well. "You'll need another cab while I get this fixed," they both jumped out and John simply nodded. "I'll call a buddy if you like?" he asked. John nodded again. One problem down, one to go. He was severely worried about what emergency they had to call him in for at the hospital. His blood never settled after that thought.

He was in another cab in seconds and he thanked the one before, handing cash he didn't accept at first, but John shoved in his hand. "Thanks," he finally accepted and John was off. Peculiar fellow, John was. The cabbie shook it off as he watched the car disappear.

John settled just as the cab stopped again and he paid while stepping out. He rushed into the building as the others told him what was going on. There had been a bomb that exploded somewhere along the subway, and there were many casualties.

John puffed his cheeks out, exhaling as he prepared for the worst.

* * *

John had patched up four people on the last two hours with the help of others and he was exhausted but he had to keep going. He took a break for coffee and a doctor approached him saying, "You must feel like a hero," she beamed, knowing about his successes before he did.

"Not really," he admitted. He looked at his watch, great, another patient in fifteen minutes.

"Here," she poured something in his coffee, "little pick-me-up for you," she smiled warmly. Her green eyes hid a lot from John and he eyed her.

"I don't trust you," he said bluntly. She shrugged.

"Trust me, or don't, it'll help," she said. He smelled his coffee, glaring at her, wondering if he should. Well, he was already in the hospital, and if he was poisoned, they'd help. He still took only a small sip. "I'm Eve, by the way," she said as she stood

John shook her hand briefly as he drank the rest, "John," and he left. He had another surgery now and he couldn't afford to be late. Eve smirked at the fact that John was so stupid. He may be in a hospital, but no one can save him from what she's done. And it wasn't the poison that she was thinking about hurting him with.

* * *

John was finished and was about to go in for the last time today, when he felt drowsy. He had felt better after what Eve had given him, but now he was tired again. So much for that. But when he started walking back again, he couldn't stand.

He couldn't even cry out as darkness consumed him and his face hit the cold floor. That was the text Sherlock had gotten: **John's in the hospital, and not working. You should visit him, I can't- MH.**

Sherlock bolted for the door as Aveen followed and he got a cab with barely remembering to close the front door and lock it. He twitched in his seat as Aveen just questioned what was going on. Luckily they had both been dressed when Sherlock received this text. And obviously Mycroft couldn't make it, he wouldn't text if he could talk, and if he can't talk, he can't move. Most likely something to do with his teeth again.

Sherlock pulled Aveen from the cab and said not a word as he paid and she was being pulled through the door of the hospital. He gave up in anticipation and put her on his hip as he approached the counter with the woman behind it.

"I'm here to see John Watson," he confirmed with a nod and Aveen was almost crying with how worried she was now.

"We can't let anyone see him but fa-."

"I am his boyfriend! And I am Sherlock Holmes, let me see him!" he demanded in a defined voice. Her eyes widened when she heard his name and she ushered him back the hall immediately before more people could stare. She also blushed when she heard the word boyfriend. Everyone thought something was going on with those two, and apparently there is.

Sherlock put Aveen on her feet at the sight of John in that retched bed, with a drip in his arm. Sherlock grabbed his hand as he pulled up a chair and sat by his lover. He had regretted telling the nurse John was his boyfriend, but it was true.

He hadn't shown his anger or any other emotion, he had simply yelled at her, and Aveen noticed that he was bottling said emotions. But now they were sprayed to his face as he raised John's hand to his lips.

* * *

"He was poisoned," Mycroft explained when he stepped in the room, hours later. Aveen was just waiting patiently while Mycroft walked in. She gawked at how tall this man was, and how he was dressed. Even the umbrella said he was classy.

She smirked when she heard, "Go away, brother," Sherlock snarled. So Sherlock does have a brother. Aveen had wondered whether he had anyone besides John and Molly. Then there was Lestrade randomly.

"Sherlock, what the hell happened?" Greg asked as he looked over John.

"What are you doing here?" Mycroft asked, wondering why Gregory of all people was here. But as his green eyes met Mycroft's brown, Mycroft tilted his head slightly at the feeling in his stomach. those eyes...

"John's my friend, too, you stupid git," Gregory spat. But then he realized who this was, and simply widened his eyes as he took in Mycroft. But his attention was turned back to John when Sherlock answered his question.

"He was poisoned. I don't know who did it or why, but I will find out," Sherlock declared. Greg noticed John's hand in Sherlock's and had a smile spread over his face. Sherlock turned back to his lover as an annoyed blush creeped over his cheeks.

Greg pulled up a chair on the other side of the bed, and Mycroft couldn't leave this time. He didn't know why but the silver haired man has captured his thoughts as he deduced him over and over. Greg was stressed and John wasn't helping this situation.

Mycroft was confused as to why he couldn't stop going over Gregory's features. Greg's eyes met his again, and he was instantly embarrassed that he had been staring. He didn't show it, but he felt it, and Greg simply glared at him.

Mycroft was suddenly hurt, as Greg's stare went back to John. Sherlock brushed his hair from his face and placed a kiss where that hair had been. Sherlock couldn't wait for John to wake up and tell him what had happened.

But Mycroft's mind couldn't get rid of the DI. He tilted his head again, staring, again, and wondering what was so interesting about this man. Maybe it was the fact that he had the same qualities as John. Strong, kind hearted and a bit older.

Dear God, was Mycroft getting the hots for this man?! he knew he liked both sexes, but seriously?! This man was a friend of his brother, and that would never work. But Mycroft couldn't leave, so he sat. Beside Aveen Mycroft sat in one of the chairs...

* * *

**This is what Sherlock gets for leaving... Just saying. And yes, I will have Mystrade, and I don't care if I lose views and/or followers for it. But anyway, reviews? **


	8. Chapter 8

Eight: So Many Frayed Ends

Eve retreated from the building with a tight smirk on her face that didn't fade until she opened the door to her car. She looked at herself in the mirror and her bangs hid most of her face. Her chocolate brown hair was draped over her shoulders instead of up in a high pony tail. She enjoyed the sight of her hair. She knew it was beautiful.

Her green eyes examined herself and she appreciated getting all her acne problems out when she was a teen. It'd be embarrassing at her age to have it. She quit ogling herself in the mirror as she slid the key into the ignition.

It purred to life and she drove home, content that she had accomplished her task. Now Mycroft had to recruit him so they could find the one who set off that bomb. Hopefully, he would do it in a way that would separate Sexy from him, and Sexy would be all hers…

It was five minutes until she was through the door to her home, and she breathed in the familiar air as her cat circled her legs, meowing for food. She smiled as she knelt and scratched his ears. He purred as he followed her to the kitchen where she opened a can and plopped it in front of him.

But there was a knock at the door as she was going upstairs. She opened it cautiously as she found someone she didn't expect tonight, "I thought I had the night off," she complained.

"You do, but we wanted to give something to you," the Elder spoke and there was a woman behind him. She had cute and short hair and she was beautifully curved as Eve took her in.

"Who is this?" she asked, her breath almost stolen from the sight of her.

"The woman you will protect from John Watson. The woman who will be living with you now. Mary, this is Eve, Eve this is Mary. No catfights," he warned and shoved Mary through the door. She had a duffle bag on her shoulder, because she knew the Elders would come for her at some point.

She had already texted Sherlock that she wouldn't be in the same place. Eve closed the door as Mary stood awkwardly, "Sorry for intruding," her cheeks burned as she looked Eve over. She was pretty and Mary knew Eve had a personality that wouldn't fail her, or else the Elders wouldn't have put her here.

"You're not, actually. Make yourself at home. I've got an extra bedroom upstairs," she explained. She could tell she was going to like Mary. She took one last look as the blond walked upstairs. The jeans didn't help the fact that she had a nice… everything.

When Mary came back down, Eve was in the kitchen, making the food she had to eat now. She hadn't eaten in a very long time. She asked if Mary needed any, she didn't. "Okay, um, you can watch telly if you like," Eve suggested.

"No," she sunk into the kitchen chair, "I'm good," she rubbed her stomach out of habit and Eve noticed it.

"You're pregnant," it wasn't a question, but Mary nodded. "John's I assume," she guessed and Mary nodded again, wishing she didn't have to avoid John. But if this works the way the Elders and Eve had planned, John would have a broken heart and Mary couldn't see that. She didn't mind the thought of Sherlock being broken, though. In fact, she looked forward to it.

"I did love him, you know," she said, almost having tears as Eve munched on her sandwich. "I still do, not as much, but John is hard to get out," she admitted.

"He was attractive, but so was his lover," Eve hummed. Mary looked disgusted for a moment, "No, never mind. Sherlock is totally ugly," she corrected, feeling like she had to help Mary, like a best friend would.

Mary giggled, "No, it's fine. I agree, that man has looks, but I still don't understand what he has that I don't," she admitted.

"He's an ass," Eve suggested. Mary laughed and shook her head.

"That must be it, yeah," she smiled. Then it was on to a different subject that Mary couldn't help but bring up, "You know, if this potion would have killed John, I wouldn't have agreed to let you do that."

"And why not?" Eve asked, truly puzzled as to why she wanted John alive.

"Just because he broke my heart, doesn't mean I want him dead," she explained. "Though, I do regret that the potion will have side effects," she admitted.

"Who cares? If anything, you have me now," she offered, while taking one of Mary's hands. "If he doesn't love you, I will. I know it sounds very, _very_ sudden, but you seem like the kind of person I could get used to," she assured the blond. Mary gaped at her, she had never heard those words come from almost a complete stranger.

She closed her mouth, then opened it again to say, "Thank you." She squeezed Eve's hand as she added, "You seem easy to like as well," she smiled.

Eve let go of Mary's lovely hand, "Not when you see my true self. I'm quite annoying and then other times I'm completely silent," she explained.

Mary just nodded, understanding that this woman probably hadn't had someone living with her before. "The Elders know how to choose the right people, I guess," she said, despite Eve's confession. Eve just smiled, glad she had Mary now.

* * *

Sherlock sat by John, Mycroft and Lestrade now gone. Aveen sat in the seat Gregory had left. She swung her feet under it, studying John's face, his heartbeat and his breathing.

Sherlock noticed her looking and almost smiled at her concern. But he didn't, he was too worried about John to do anything else, but look to him. Aveen simply took the other of John's hands in her own, and Sherlock did crack a small smile at that.

He then wondered how that hand would look with a certain… type of metal... on it… Sherlock jumped up, "Aveen, we have an errand to run," he said suddenly. She was confused, but she was dragged out with him and to the street where they called a cab.

She was shoved in as Sherlock was grinning. She had no idea what was going on, but she had a feeling Sherlock had something planned.

* * *

Mycroft regretted doing this, but as he went to talk to John, he knew that this had to be done, and that if it wasn't, there'd be hell to pay.

So he approached John's bed as John stirred and asked the worst question he's ever had to ask the soldier. And when John at first protested, he wasn't surprised. But he eventually agreed…

* * *

Sherlock returned with a box in his pocket, and he was fingering it as Aveen was smiling so hard she was afraid her lips would split up to her ears.

But when Sherlock was heading back to John, the nurse stopped him, "John Watson, correct?" she asked as he nodded in confusion. "He was already signed out by someone else," she explained and Sherlock was pissed.

But he swallowed the anger, "Okay," he said simply, "thank you," and he grabbed Aveen's hand while they went back to 221B.

o0o0o0o

Sherlock had the phone pressed to his ear, "Well, if you didn't take him, then who did!?" Sherlock shouted at his confused brother.

"Sherlock, I don't know. Did you ever think that maybe he signed himself out. He is a doctor after all," Mycroft suggested.

Sherlock stomped his foot like a child, "No, the nurse said someone else did! Why do you always have to kidnap John?!" he shouted again.

"I swear I did nothing of the sort," wasn't a lie. "Little brother, we will find him. I won't tell you it's okay, but it will be. Hopefully," and Mycroft couldn't take it. He hung up and Sherlock threw his phone across the room.

Aveen's brows knitted together as she stood at his elbow, grabbing him down to face her, "Stop it," she demanded. "Do you really think he'd want you to be such an arse when he's counting on you? Get it together!" she raised her voice, but didn't shout.

Sherlock stood straight up, "Fine." They want him to be emotionless, that's what he'd do. But John being etched into his soul made him let the fire of love burn and he cut out everything else.

He would find John, and whoever took him would pay…

* * *

"Perfect," Eve purred into the phone. She hung up on one of her trusted accomplices.

"I'm guessing John's gone, then," Mary looked to the happy brunette. Eve nodded once, slowly and her smile spread to a grin.

"Sherlock will pay for murdering him, and I will not kill Watson, but Sexy will die of the heartbrake I am suffering," she admitted.

"For a mastermind, you admit emotions very freely. Quite the opposite of Sherlock," she pointed out. "And 'Sexy' is the weirdest nickname for an enemy," she stated.

"Feeling aren't something to regret. But they aren't something to surrender to, either. I do love, but I am cautious about it. That is what Sherlock can't do. He loves and doesn't know how to control himself, hence John being missing," she explained. "And yes, it is a weird nickname, but I don't care," she shrugged.

Mary smiled. Knowing John wouldn't be hurt, she could love this plan. She had never thought of revenge on the Holmes, but now that she thought about it, it did sound nice. He did, after all, take John from her, so she was just returning the favor.

Although, it was neither of them that took John. And that was the best part. All it took was exposing Eve and a bomb and John was gone.

You see, Eve was great at everything. She was smart, could hack into anything, could make any size of bomb and she was sexy to top all of that. Mary admitted that she saw Eve as attractive. She had no idea why she felt this way, but she didn't hide it.

Mary didn't see the point in hiding who you fall in love with, which was why she further misunderstood John. She never got why he hid his feelings from Sherlock. Then again, look what happened when they let their feelings run lose…

* * *

"Sherlock!" Gregory pounded up the stairs, "I heard about John, I wanted to make sure you didn't ruin anything," Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the DI.

"Why would I ruin something? Just because John is missing doesn't mean I'm going to go crazy."

Greg stared at Sherlock, "But you love him, don't you?" he was confused.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I let it cloud my judgment. I need to find him simply because he was taken, not because he's my lover," Gregory's cheeks burned when Sherlock used that term.

Gregory never thought of putting it that way. Aveen simply ate her food and let Sherlock talk to Gregory and eventually throw him out. Sherlock needed silence. Aveen obliged by finishing, then going to her room and laying in bed, just thinking about life without John.

She couldn't imagine not having him brush her hair, or making her dinner that always tasted amazing. She would be nowhere if John hadn't shown her kindness. She felt she had to do something to help find John, but what could she do?

All she could do was lie here and miss John. It was so easy to have him here, and so hard to believe that he wasn't coming home.

* * *

Molly received a text from Lestrade concerning John, and when she read the full message, tears came to her eyes. She texted him back asking if Sherlock was doing anything. And of course he would be, but she had to be sure.

He texted her back saying that Sherlock was on the case of the missing lover. Molly's cheeks were streaked with tears as she finished what she had been doing. She had to finish this and return home to Tom.

Yes, Tom. He was her fiancée and he didn't appreciate the late nights she'd been having at work. But she loved him as much as she could and he loved her more. Or so he said. She wasn't sure anymore, though. He always got jealous when Sherlock was around and he happened to visit her at work.

If he truly loved her, he would trust her enough to not cheat with the detective who had John. But the truth was, not even she could trust herself not to make a move. She loved Sherlock so much, and for so long, she felt she could break at any moment.

But she hadn't, not yet at least. And she wouldn't, not as long as she was loving someone else.

* * *

Lestrade texted Mycroft, seeing as the Iceman had texted him before and now Gregory had his number. **It was u wasn't it?- GL**

**I've no idea what you're talking about- MH**

**U took John…-GL**

**We can't talk about this over a phone, Gregory. Meet me at the Yard – MH**

**Fine…- GL **Gregory had just relaxed at his flat, but now he had to move, and while he didn't want to, he had to have this conversation with Mycroft. He didn't even know why he accused him of taking John, but it seemed like a good assumption.

But he nonetheless went to his office where Mycroft simply sat, not that that was creepy or anything, no not at all…

Gregory huffed and sat in his chair, deciding to eat another donut. "You really shouldn't eat like that," Mycroft stated.

"Sod off," Lestrade snapped. Then he realized, "Sorry. It's just been hell, and then John's gone and Sherlock's not even stressed about it. By the way, I know it was you. I don't know why or how, but it was you, wasn't it?"

He munched on the donut he finished before Mycroft could explain without giving anything away. "You're not as stupid as Sherly makes you out to be," he admitted. Lestrade beamed.

"You're not as secretive as he makes you out to be, either. I thought you had no emotions," he raised a brow at Mycroft.

He could see the confusion in those soft brown eyes and his green ones smiled at the fact that he confused a Holmes. You may hide things, Mycroft, but Gregory can see them. No one else, but Greg. Do you wonder why? You should.

But Mycroft couldn't read Gregory's face now. He saw the usually things, like what he was doing the last few hours, but he couldn't read that emotion. What was that? It was raw, and right there, in front of Mycroft and he couldn't read it.

He was getting frustrated and Gregory could see that as well. He now had a smug smile playing his lips and Mycroft found himself staring at those curved beauties. Why where they attractive to him? He had only ever felt this once before, and he regretted it last time.

But why does it feel as though this time may be different? Now Gregory was confused at the man who was simply staring at his mouth then his eyes, then his hair. Why was he paying so much attention to detail?

Mycroft was paying so much attention because he was storing Gregory in his 'mind palace'. Although, with this it was more like a mansion, but he used the same methods his little brother did. Or, Sherlock used his methods, whichever.

But Mycroft stored Lestrade and leaned over his desk to speak, but he found his breath denying him air. Instead, he stood, his umbrella hooked on his arm and Gregory was going to let him leave, but his mouth denied him, "Mycroft," he addressed, and the man turned to meet his eyes.

There was a yearning in them now. He wanted Mycroft to stay, but why? Why did he wasn't this man to stay and give him company? Now Mycroft could tell what that emotion was, as Gregory's face was full of it.

Gregory was lonely and he wanted Mycroft to stay. But neither knew why Gregory wanted Mycroft to stay, or why Mycroft sat again, watching as Gregory went back to work, expecting Mycroft to just leave and forget his presence.

But then the man was behind him, leaning over Greg and staring at the screen the DI was staring at. "Um?"

"Just wanted to see why you're ignoring me, and it does seem important," Mycroft admitted as he stood straight up.

Gregory looked up to the man, and his brows rose as he figured out what he was feeling. But he'd only ever felt this for a man once before, and it ended horribly. Then why did he feel as though he didn't give a shit and he wanted to try this?

And suddenly he was on his feet and his arms were around Mycroft's neck and he was kissing him. Mycroft accepted this, knowing this was what the DI was aiming for, and the suited man kissed him back.

But suddenly it stopped and Gregory was afraid. Mycroft simply let him go, and he sat down again, shaking. "Gregory," Mycroft pulled his attention from the monitor as the man was bending over him and their mouths joined again.

Gregory whimpered against Mycroft's lips and he wondered how they were so soft when they didn't look it. Gregory's lips were just as Mycroft had thought, small but don't underestimate them. Mycroft pulled back again, and decided he would admit something, "The reason I never show emotion is because sometimes, they don't like me."

"Emotions don't like anyone," Gregory told him and Mycroft shrugged as he kissed him again. And when Mycroft felt his mobile buzz with what he knew was a text from Sherlock, he looked at the screen. "Sherlock?" Greg asked, and Mycroft nodded.

"I should get back to work anyway. Maybe I can talk to you over lunch tomorrow," he had small smile on his lips now.

Gregory nodded, "That'd be nice," he admitted. Now he couldn't really judge Sherlock and John for the relationship they had. Though, he never really had. He had simply put it to the side because he needed Sherlock for cases.

But he felt that his feelings were different from those two. He felt as though he was falling in love again, and that his recent divorce would be the last of broken hearts. But he also knew that if after this there was grief, he would finally break.

Mycroft gave his DI a quick kiss and left, his umbrella swinging beside him and many people gave him funny looks at the fact that he had spent so much time in Greg's office, but he simply let the goldfish swim past him and he paid no attention to them.

* * *

Sally had seen Mycroft walk out and when she walked into Gregory's office, she found him smiling and humming as he worked. "Happy, I see?"

"Very," Greg beamed and Sally was going to ask why. But he said, "Don't ask," he shook his head once and went back to the monitor that consumed him before.

Sally nodded, "Right. Glad to see you happy," she said and then plopped a file on his desk, saying that it was the solution to the current case.

* * *

"We need to find him, Mycroft," the mop of curls complained to his elder.

"Don't you think I am trying?" he looked to Sherlock. Sherlock simply waved his hands in dismissal.

"Do you have any leads as to who could have done this? I must admit, that I am very scattered and my mind is having trouble comprehending that he's gone," he admitted.

"Dearest brother," Sherlock glared at his brother, "I assure you that I am trying to get him back. But no, I'm not sure who would have done this. What about your… 'friends'?" he asked, knowing Aveen was somewhere listening.

"'Friends'? Oh, I don't know. Mary did warn me about getting involved, but I never listen to warnings, everyone should know that," he steepled his hands under his chin and paced, wondering if Mary was connected to this. Mycroft was helping. Very slightly, though.

Mary had even texted him, saying she was moving from her original spot. But she had assured him she'd be safe, and that, he didn't question. He knew Mary was capable of taking care of herself. But would she do this? To get back at Sherlock? But for-… Sherlock got it. Though he never understood the need for revenge, it sounded like the only option.

But why now? She had the chance to do it before? Why take John as well? shouldn't she just get Sherlock? He paced slower, his mind needing his strength for this. Mycroft saw the change in the speed of his pacing and decided he was deep in thought.

So Mycroft decided to check on Aveen. Sherlock didn't notice when he left him in the main room, and Mycroft climbed the stairs.

He peaked through the ajar door, and he found Aveen curled into herself in the middle of what used to be John's bed. She whimpered and shot straight up. She had fallen asleep, but now she was awake and there were tears on her face.

Mycroft had no idea what to do. But then he heard Sherlock's bare feet padding on the carpet up the stairs and to Aveen's room. He pushed in the door past Mycroft and brought Aveen into his arms. He glared at Mycroft as if it was his fault, but his older brother only studied Aveen further.

She had been having a nightmare, but what about? Could it have been John? Mycroft didn't know. So he simply left. He closed the front door behind himself and was encased in the warm weather they'd been having lately. He also couldn't help the guilt welling because John wasn't there for his family.

Ugh, sunshine. It's too distracting, he decided and he called a car. Anthea sat in it already and she smiled when he slid in the seat beside her.

* * *

Sherlock held Aveen close to his chest as her tears soaked his night shirt that he had changed into, with no intent of leaving the flat. Now he definitely wasn't leaving. Just because he couldn't show his motion doesn't mean he can't have them.

Aveen cuddled into Sherlock, even when the tears had stopped, and he kept stroking her hair, making sure she was one trembling, "Okay?" he asked, not asking for her to talk about it. He knew what it was like to wake up from bad dreams that you can't speak of ever again.

She nodded, her eyes red and puffy and her lips trembling a little, but she had no tears. Sherlock put a hand to her cheek. She leaned into this touch and Sherlock gave her a quick kiss to the forehead and she smiled.

"Hungry?" he asked as he pulled himself from the bed. She nodded and stood beside him, reaching past his hips now. She already grew? Well, that's new.

He pushed himself to move and down the stairs they went where Sherlock made her a sandwich and some tea for the both of them. Her hair scattered everywhere made him grab the brush from the counter.

As he brushed out the knots, he was careful, as he knew John was. Oh, John… why did you have to be taken? Sherlock didn't blame John, but he hated whoever had taken him. They must be accompanying the one who poisoned him, because no one would have known to take him at that time.

Then again, they could be someone who just took the chance and now he's stuck somewhere, being fought over. Sherlock smiled, he'd fight for his lover if it came down to it. As a matter of fact, he had. He was always fighting for John.

He ran his fingers through Aveen's raven hair and was reminded of how John had done so. God, if he didn't find John, he would never be the same person again. She popped the last of the sandwich in her mouth and turned to look at Sherlock, who had now put the brush on the table.

She smiled and he returned what he could attempt of a small smile. She jumped from the chair and hugged Sherlock's waist. She knew what he was feeling, to an extent. She knew what it was like to feel lost without someone you need.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around her as best he could and she squeezed. "I believe in you," she assured.

"I don't," he sighed, "but thanks," he said. She snuggled into his stomach and he pet her hair as they just stood there, wondering who was going to move first. And she did, running off to get a shower and sleep again.

Her dreams were the only place she was perfectly content. Sherlock was lying on the couch when she came back out, holding the brush he had used earlier, "Could you…?" she didn't even have to finish.

He took her with open arms and she sat in his lap while her hair dripped onto his sleep pants, and he didn't care. It reminded him that no tears would be shed. If her hair was crying, he wouldn't…

* * *

**So there you have it, John's missing and Sherlock isn't going crazy, but in fact the opposite. But how long will that last? Honestly, not even I know... but, reviews?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: This will jump from perspective to perpective and for that I am sorry, but with the way the story goes, it kinda has to be like that or I can't get everything... But please do R&R! Enjoy!**

* * *

Nine: And Suddenly Nothing Else Mattered

The lunch that Lestrade and Holmes had gathered for was full of conversation of work. Mycroft couldn't help it, and Gregory was working with them now, anyway. Plus, the fact that Gregory knew meant that Mycroft didn't have to pretend to be hunting for John.

Because Mycroft already knew where John was, and he may not be completely safe, but it's better than him not doing anything. Besides, if John was lounging at home with Sherlock, he'd be in mortal danger.

But where he was now, no one would find him unless it was needed.

* * *

John looked around the corner where the woman stood, just stood. He had a feeling she knew he was there, but when she looked back, she didn't find him. This woman was pretty, not beautiful or exceptional. But she was definitely pretty and John could see how she could charm a man with those hips.

Christ, John was almost hypnotized then and there. But then he remembered Sherlock's hips, and he was instantly okay. Well, not okay, but enough to resume silently checking his pistol. Even a Vampire would die from a bullet, and that was what assured him this would work.

He thanked Mycroft for being considerate of the fact that guns were loud, and this pistol was silent as the bullet soared past a few of the homeless and hit her in the back of the head. Some of the men looked to John and raised their brows, but he disappeared into the shadows and let her fall to the ground.

Two down, four to go… then he could be with Sherlock. Then all of this could be over and he could brush Aveen's hair again. He could tickle her senseless. God, they were such simple things, but he missed them already.

He knew Sherlock would be looking for him and he checked his phone and sent a text to Mycroft saying he was finished. Once John was in the car, Mycroft called, "Two already?" he didn't seem surprised, but Greg was.

John could hear his exclamation in the background and wondered why Gregory was with Mycroft. But he shoved the one little thought from his mind and answered, "Yes. But I assume not all of them will be this easy," it wasn't a question. He knew not all of them would be as stupid as the last two. as a matter of fact, he was working from the easiest to the most difficult.

Mycroft said it would help him not get ahead of himself. If they descended in difficulty, he wouldn't think right and he'd make the worst mistakes. "You really love him, don't you?" he asked. John was stunned, and he knew who the Holmes on the other line was talking about.

"Yes… why?" he answered slowly.

"You're just… you sacrafice much for him. As he did, and still does with you," he answered slowly as well. "He died for you and you practically did the same," he explained.

"That's what friends do," John said, nodding to confirm it.

"You're much more than friends, John, and even Gregory knows that," John heard the hum from the other line that had to be Greg.

"Right, well, I'm going back to base and getting a shower and then getting ready for the next-"

"No, you need rest. You go back to the house and you get some sleep. Be rational about this, Watson," and he hung up. John pursed his lips as he ended the call on his end. Interesting. John didn't think the elder Holmes would care if he dropped dead in the next second.

John was tired, but he felt like he couldn't sleep without Sherlock by his side. Maybe his body would do it for him, and he would finally get sleep in what had been the four days he hadn't gotten any. He yawned when he stepped out of the car and to the mansion he was used to by now.

He pushed open the door to be greeted by Anthea and he smiled and rushed to the bathroom. He wanted to wash himself and just fall asleep. He didn't think just the word sleep could make him need it so much. Just a few minutes ago, he was ready to just go get the next fucker he needed to kill.

"By the way, the body was taken care of," Anthea assured John as he simply grunted in response and continued his trek to the bathroom. He stripped and turned on the water and let it consume him as he thought about his detective.

It was almost impossible to not think about his lover. He almost fell asleep in the shower, but he was awake enough to wash himself, missing Sherlock's help. But he clambered out, dried himself, dressed loosely in sweats, and just went to the room he had temporarily claimed as his own.

His head hit the fluffy pillows and he wished Sherlock was here beside him, his voice in his ear as he told him he loved him. John didn't let the unwanted tears to fall. He swallowed them as he fell into unconsciousness.

o0o0o0o

John woke with a start. He wasn't sure what he had been dreaming about but he knew it was something horrible. He was sweating and he had a few tears. But he was glad he couldn't remember. Obviously it was terrible.

He looked out the window, still daylight. Either he had only slept a few hours, or he had slept through the rest of the day and the night. He picked his mobile from the nightstand, and sure enough, he was more tired than he had known.

He had slept through the rest of yesterday and that night. Damn. Then his phone was vibrating in his hand and he answered, "Yes?" he sighed.

"Ready for the next one?" Mycroft asked, already knowing the answer.

John nodded and swallowed down his emotions and put his soldier face on, "Spill it," he said, Mycroft feeding him information as he dressed. This one proved to be interesting.

This man was high in power, and was one of Mycroft's men. It intrigued John that he wouldn't just slap his wrists and tell him to avoid Eve or lose his job. But apparently Mycroft is more harsh than John thought. But somehow, it also didn't surprise John that he would take the easiest way out.

He completed dressing and ran down the stairs and followed Mycroft's instructions. This one was within walking distance, obviously. But it was outside because this man was out in the garden. Stalker…

Anyway, John figured he'd be able to just waltz in there, but Mycroft told him to keep a low profile. He said that this man was trained by the best, after all. John also didn't doubt for one second that Mycroft's men weren't the best.

He had seen his men at work, and they were brilliant. Not as brilliant as the Holmes themselves, but it was amazing to see them buzzing about and running to different monitors when needed. They reminded him of Sherlock, and how he could never keep up with him.

No, he shook his head. Sherlock comes later. It sounds so harsh, but it needs to be. he felt the back of his trousers for the gun he had tucked there, and he was assured he would do this…

* * *

Mary was cuddled into Eve as they sat on the couch and enjoyed the shittiest telly anyone had ever shown Mary, but she didn't care. As long as she wasn't alone watching it, she was happy to sit here and let Eve stare at her curiously.

"You're beautiful," Eve brushed a piece of hair from her face and Mary blushed looking at her lap. John never gave her random compliments. Sure, when she was sad or angry, he would fix it, but he never just spit out compliments like Eve does. Probably does with Sherlock…

"As are you," Mary complimented back and Eve smiled sweetly.

"I know I am, but you obviously don't know you are. Your hair and your eyes and your nose," she booped Mary's nose and she giggled. God, she's never had this feeling for a woman before. Was it even supposed to happen? She didn't know, all she knew was that she was falling, fast and hard.

She didn't even know why she was falling for Eve, she just knew she was. Maybe it was Eve's eyes that captivated her, being the jades they are. Or maybe it was her fluffy lips that just needed kissing, or maybe it was her surprisingly long hair, reaching her hips easily. Or maybe it was the fact that her bangs hid half of her face and Mary could easily reach out and brush them back.

She didn't know, or maybe it was all of those things. She barely knew Eve and already the butterflies in her stomach were prominent. And it definitely wasn't the baby. She snuggled into Eve's neck as her arm was around Mary's shoulders.

The television droned on as Eve's eyes couldn't look away from Mary. She knew this was a bad idea, that her heart may be broken one day, but Mary and Eve had this weird connection. Mary knew exactly when to look up at her and Eve knew exactly when to lean in closer.

They were so in sync that no one knew who had kissed who, all they knew was that their lips were moving against one another's and they couldn't stop, didn't plan to for a while. Eve's tongue flicked over Mary's lovely bottom lip and Mary let out a moan as their tongues joined.

Then Mary needed air. And Eve realized she, too was panting. That was too hot for either of them to breath in. Eve smiled with her mouth open and Mary left a kiss on her cheek. Eve, for the first time, blushed.

She had never had a kiss elsewhere. She always had been lusted after instead of loved. She loved other people, yes, but that doesn't mean they loved her back. Mary buried her face in the other woman's neck.

She couldn't believe how good that felt. Her chest was still pounding when Eve drug Mary to her bedroom. "This is very sudden," she blushed as she followed Eve. It's only been five days…

"I agree, but will that stop me?" she asked, and answered her own question, "Not a chance," she grinned and pulled Mary into another kiss as the bedroom door w

as opened.

* * *

Sherlock paced furiously while Aveen watched his movements. Then she had the sudden urge to ask, "When was the last time you fed?"

Sherlock was stunned by her question, "A while. It doesn't matter, finding John matters," he declared and went back to making marks from his repeated pacing on the carpet in front of the fireplace.

"No, Dad, you need to drink. It's just as important as me eating," she explained. She knew very little, but she knew he had to drink sometime.

Sherlock sighed, "And where will I get blood from, hm?" he asked, trying to let his thoughts take him back.

"Mycroft can give you some. He seems to have everything, including annoyance," she said and she giggled when she saw him smile slightly.

"Fair enough. I guess I could try to give him a call," he admitted. Aveen beamed as he pulled out his cell. She was right, Mycroft did have blood. He said he'd have some over as soon as possible. Mycroft knew this would happen. John wouldn't be here and he'd have to feed the whiney prat.

Sherlock threw his phone back on the couch and he flopped down on top of it. Luckily it hit his leg and not his back or his arse. That way it wouldn't break, again…

Yeah, remember when he threw it at the wall? The screen was dead after that. He needed a new phone afterwards. It took him hours to get all the information from his old mobile to his new one. But he was glad for the upgrade.

Although the screen keyboard was very different from his simpler mobile, he liked that it wasn't as heavy. And this time, he had a case for it, like the pink one. Although this case pure black. He despised the color pink, actually.

Anyway, now it was tucked under his thigh and Mycroft was coming up the stairs. Fantastic…

* * *

Aveen had retreated to her room, and she was sitting on the edge of her bed when she heard something behind her. But, she turned a little too late and someone was already there, behind her. She would have screamed, but for the hand over her mouth.

She ripped it from her mouth and screamed as loud as her vocal chords could manage, which was pretty deafening, "SHERLOCK!"

But it was too late and she was gone.

* * *

Sherlock heard struggling and was already up when the Holmes brothers were in the room. The window was open and there the curtain blew, saying, 'Oh look, now she's gone, too…' Sherlock was angry now, he couldn't just bottle it up anymore.

He punched the wall beside him. When it didn't give, he did it again, and again. His knuckles were bleeding when Mycroft tore him from the wall, "They took John, and they took our daughter! Let me go! They will pay!" he was seething as Mycroft hoisted him up over his shoulder.

Sherlock beat against Mycroft's lower back, "Let the fuck go! I need to get her back! John! Aveen!" and he was sobbing when Mycroft set him in his chair. Angry sobs erupted from him as Mycroft searched the kitchen for the first aid kit he knew was there.

But then he remembered that Sherlock didn't need that. Mycroft pulled the blood bag from his suit jacket and ripped it open, handing it to his younger brother. Sherlock was at first confused. He then decided to jest, "Hiding muscle from Lestrade?" Mycroft snorted and looked away.

But then he realized he needed this and he drank. His fangs descended and he moaned with how good this tasted. It wasn't as good as John's. Definitely not, but he hadn't had it such a long time. Mycroft set to work cleaning up the blood from Sherlock's hand as he saw the wound closing already.

Sherlock smirked through the blood and Mycroft just felt jealous. He wished he could heal like that. But he didn't want to have the burden of more secrets on his shoulders. After Sherlock had finished, he was angry again.

He licked the blood from his lips and his fangs didn't go back this time. He was too angry for that. Mycroft could even see a shade of pink take over his eyes. He was taken aback by this and made Sherlock stay seated.

"Brother mine, don't be rash. We will find her, I promise you, we will find them both," but now he wasn't so sure.

"How can you be so sure?!" he snapped.

"Have you ever failed a mission before?" he countered. Sherlock's eyes widened. He was right. This was another mission. This wasn't personal, this wasn't something to lose his head over, this was another mission.

Something in his eyes flashed and he was done, "You're right," fangs retracted. "This is another mission that will be successful," and he got up and went to his room to get dressed again. He was done. He was cold and John was going to warm him later. But right now, emotions? What emotions?

Mycroft was pleased he finally got Sherlock to calm down, but it wasn't really calming him, was it? It was more like activating that part of Sherlock that hid his feelings from everything and everyone. He had activated the sociopath that was a cold killer, and for now that was a good thing.

But how will it affect things later? What of when he actually found Aveen and John? Even though, he won't really find John, Mycroft had planned on shoving John to Sherlock once John was finished with his missions.

And with the way John was excelling, he would be back within at least a few weeks. Mycroft had underestimated him, and said it may be a few months, but now he wasn't so sure.

Now he knew not to think of John as simply harmless. That was when he got a call, "I'm finished, can it be more challenging next time?" John complained to the man on the other line, but it was followed by a pained moan.

"You just keep dropping them, don't you?" Mycroft was surprised evermore, but he kept his ear out for ho injured John really was.

"Mycroft! Who could you possibly be on the phone with now?!" Sherlock complained.

* * *

John's breath stopped and he almost cried when he heard the ice in Sherlock's voice. "What did you do to him?" John whispered, more to himself than Mycroft. But the MI6 agent heard it.

"I don't know, honestly. Do hurry, solider," Mycroft came him that nickname so he could address John and not have Sherlock on him.

Mycroft hung up and John couldn't breathe with this realization. Sherlock was back to… being sociopathic. He was void of feeling. What happened? He'll have to figure it out later.

Right now, he had a bloody hand, a gun to ditch, a sprained ankle and a bruise on the back of his neck. Yeah, he was messed up, but you should see the other guy. John had broken his arm, his nose and his head had many gashes. There was also a bullet through his shoulders and his head, obviously.

Then he got a text from Sherlock. He was grateful and at first he didn't recognize the number, but he read.

He figured Sherlock got a new phone and he did. As he explained the long text. **John, this is Sherlock. Got a new mobile, broke the last one. And I don't know if you're actually reading this, but I do love you. Anyway, I know this sounds crazy but Aveen was taken. If she was taken by the same people who took you, please tell her she's okay for me. But if she wasn't taken from the same people, I will be thoroughly surprised. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I am safe, though I don't know for how long. John, I miss you, so much, I love you… - SH **

So he was only showing that he was void of feeling. And John wanted to respond, he really wanted to, but he couldn't. The tears spilled over on the leather of the seat he was now sitting on in Mycroft's car for the third time. He wanted to tell Sherlock he loved him, too. And he was angry that Aveen was taken.

Who would take a small child? Unless, they knew what she was. But what would that matter? Angry, yet sad tears fell and Anthea was concerned. She didn't say a thing, but she had stopped typing and was looking to John with furrowed brows. His tears, and his injuries wee what she had sink into her eyes.

He looked t her, and he instantly snapped, "What are you looking at?!" she jumped and shook her head, not afraid but surprised, going back to her phone. John instantly felt, "Sorry," and he looked down in his lap. "I just… never mind," knowing she wouldn't want to hear his ranting. He watched the blood slow and eventually stop from his hand.

He let his sobs choke out his ability to speak as he almost didn't make it to his lonely room. He buried his face in the pillows as he let the tears stain the perfect white. The aid Mycroft sent to patch him up didn't understand the tears, but he said nothing of them. He screamed into pillow, knowing he could be heard anyway.

He didn't care. It hurt too much to stop. If he stopped, he would start again. He felt helpless without Sherlock to comfort him. He couldn't take another mission, not today. He just couldn't. he would wait until tomorrow, when he could think properly, and he was less injured.

* * *

Eve's mobile kept vibrating with texts on the nightstand as she ripped open Mary's shirt. "Shouldn't you…" she panted, "Get that…?" Mary asked.

"Ignore it," and they did, letting it go off an eventually stop. It was easy to ignore such a thing when there was a beautiful woman sending chills down your spine with kisses being planted on your neck and your shoulder and your stomach.

Eve was careful with Mary. She wanted to please her, not hurt her. Mary enjoyed those lips on her skin and her hands couldn't help but to grab onto anything she could. Eve's hair and the sheets were her choices, and she chose both.

She moaned loudly when Eve's teeth tortured her abdomen. Eve giggled and planted kisses on her way back up and flicked her tongue across Mary's lips, deepening the kiss they initiated. Mary moaned into Eve's mouth as her shirt was over her head.

Mary was already almost naked. Her shirt slipped from her shoulders as she looked down to herself. Nothing but her undergarments. Even her socks were gone. But Eve was now the same way. Her bra was lace and Mary could see her perked nipples through the pretty red surrounding her breasts.

Mary's legs went around eve's hips and she moaned when Eve somehow managed to get a hand around and unclip her boring black bra. It was on the floor as Eve put kisses around the moaning Mary's breasts.

Mary just couldn't believe she could get so much pleasure from a woman. The arms she had hanging from Eve's neck tightened and her nails dug into Eve's back as her fangs were prominent. But that was okay, because Eve's had been poking out since the first heated kiss.

They were careful with one another's fangs as they had deep kisses in between Mary slipping Eve's bra from her shoulders and she gasped. Eve was amazing, and her body was amazing. But Eve was distracted with Mary's pants.

Then she wasn't, as they were on the floor. Mary's blond and short trimmed pubes were gorgeous, like the rest of her. Eve loved the sight of Mary being so vulnerable under her touch. That was why when she planted kisses down Mary's middle, her finger made circles around Mary's nipple, and there were so many moans that Eve was having a hard time controlling herself.

Mary's fingers tangled into Eve's hair again as Eve teased her clit with kisses and the smallest of licks. Mary moaned, "Please, stop… teasing. Ah!" Eve's tongue was slow and seductive as it ran over Mary's clitoris completely and gently.

Mary was left throbbing for more as she pinned Eve to the covers, letting her dominant personality come out now. She had always done this to John, but now this was a woman, and she had a few ideas of what to do. Not so innocent now, are we?

Eve's pants were gone as she sucked lightly on her nipple and her hand drifted down, leaving trails of touches and massages on her abdomen and her hips before drifting in between her thighs. Eve was sensitive there, as she had only ever done this twice.

And the feeling of Mary's fingers were euphoric as she gripped the blond's shoulders and moaned her name. Mary decided she like that and got her to do it again as Eve's fingers pressed what Mary knew would be bruises later into her skin.

But she didn't care as she exchanged a quick tongue with Eve before it continued to lick and her teeth nipping down to her hips. Eve was shaved clean, and for that Mary was a little glad. She had never done THIS before, so she was happy that she didn't have to do it with what she hated most.

She was tired of having hair in her face when she gave anyone head. And her lips left furtive kisses on Eve's thighs and she ran a fang across it, teasing Eve's clit with kisses and little nips. Eve had her legs up over Mary's shoulders as her fingers pressed into them as well.

Mary was sure there'd be bruises now. Did she care? Not in the least. She licked slowly and Eve screamed out a moan. Mary chuckled and did it again, extracting another moan. Eve was aching and needed more before the bliss would completely take over.

But Mary's lovely mouth left her as her finger replaced it poorly. Eve still had whimpers as Mary's lips landed on hers again. Their tongues tangled and Eve could taste a bit of herself and smirked into the kiss. Mary loved the taste of Eve. Her tongue and her skin and everything else.

That' why she couldn't help when her fangs traced one of Eve's veins. Eve was nervous, but nodded. Mary wanted Eve to drink, too though. So she positioned herself in a way that Eve could sink her fangs in as well as Mary.

Mary's teeth descended into Eve's skin and Eve yelped, biting into Mary instantly. This… this was heaven on this fucked up world. Mary's fingers now inside Eve and her teeth too, she didn't know how anything else could be better.

Eve drank sloppily and finished when Mary moved off. They licked each other clean and Eve pulled Mary under her again, taking temporary control. Her tongue brushed over Mary's skin and her teeth tortured and Mary moaned Eve's name.

"Sh…" she put a finger to Mary's soft lips and continued her journey to Mary's groin. Her tongue instantly was on Mary again, the blond tickling her nose as her tongue was buried deep into Mary, scraping at the walls of her new lover.

Mary screamed out moans and dug her fingers into Eve's shoulders, her vision failed her as Eve lapped up what was seeping out of Mary now. She was pleased as she kissed her way back up to Mary's lips. But Mary wasn't finished with her just yet.

Then Eve was on her back again and both of Mary's hands cupped her breasts as her mouth travelled down and she had repeated Eve's actions. But hers were slower, just barely teasing liquid out of Eve as she did her best to lick it up.

Eve was really amazing, and Mary savored her strawberry like taste. But Eve could easily say the same about Mary. Mary was sweet no matter what part of her you were kissing. Eve's vision returned from the second of blindness she had endured and Mary collapsed beside her.

"Craziest thing I've ever done," Mary admitted.

"But the best," Eve teased as she kissed Mary, slow and meaningful. "I think…" she thought about saying this, and bit her lip, but ended up letting it spill, "I love you," she said, almost a whisper.

She was afraid Mary would say that this wasn't a result of love, and that it was just lust in the heat of the moment. But Mary surprised her by chuckling and kissing her, "I love you, too," she admitted.

Eve was definitely surprised. But she loved Mary's kisses and she was getting sleepy under them. "I'm tired," she yawned. "Sleep with me?"

"Of course," Mary smiled, spooning into Eve from behind and kissing her cheek. They fell asleep, exhausted but this was worth the last bit of energy they had had left.

* * *

John woke to darkness consuming him and at first he was scared and didn't know where he was, but then he remembered he was at Mycroft's. He also figured out that he had slept all day, and now he was going to be up all night.

He journeyed down the stairs, careful of his healing ankle, and found Mycroft sitting with his computer in his lap, and, "Greg?" John rubbed his eyes, also careful of his hand, just to make sure.

"Oh, hi John," he yawned and leaned into Mycroft, who had an arm around him. John gaped. Mycroft cuddling?

"Right, well, Mycroft I was wondering if I had to wait for the next mission tomorrow or if I could do it now," he explained.

"No, mostly because we haven't tracked the next one down. I figured you'd take longer, and we'd have hem by then, but apparently not. And then there's the other simple fact that you need time to heal, Watson. Why don't you try to go back to sleep?" Mycroft waved his hand at John.

"Right, I'm good. I think I will just try to get some more sleep," he ran his fingers through his hair and took one last good look at Gregory in Mycroft's lap. It was strange, but John couldn't really judge.

He himself had fallen for a Holmes, and they are captivating. That sent a pang of guilt to his heart. But he covered it until he reached his room. He found that he had covered it too well, and the tears he expected didn't come.

Good, he didn't want them. Tears made him feel weak, and though he knew they were sometimes good, he still felt that they weren't right now. He plopped on the bed and rolled under the covers. He tried to sleep.

He really did try, but he couldn't, he kept thinking about Sherlock and how much he missed him. This was torture, knowing his detective was so close, yet so, so far away. Then there was Aveen, dear God, she was just a child and someone took her…

John tried to sleep, but too much worried him.

* * *

Sherlock couldn't sleep, either. He felt like John was thinking about him as well, and he instantly quit. Feelings can wait, he knew they could. They had to. But he was alone in the flat. And that was what made him get up and get dressed and grab his coat and he went for a walk.

But before he could do so, he caught a glimpse of something shining in the night, over there in the corner of their room. His shoes padded on the carpet and he bent over in front of the closet, figures. Of course they'd be there, just when John was gone, and Sherlock needed him.

But do you know what he did? He said, fuck it, and put that chain around his neck and tucked it under his shirt. As he bounced down the stairs the familiar jingle almost brought tears to his eyes. But he got some fresh air, and he was more towards okay than before.

As long as he could control his breathing, he would be okay. But he wouldn't be perfect until his soldier and his little girl were returned to him…

* * *

Aveen woke almost breathless. "About time you little brat," someone spat. She instantly sat up, wondering why she was in a room, tied to a small chair.

"Who are you? Where's Sherlock?" she stared at the man who seemed to be young.

"I am your Elder. Now shut up, or you may never see your father again," he sneered.

"An Elder? If there's one good thing my mother ever taught me, it's that you are dirt," she spat in his face that was so close to hers.

"Your mother was a no good whore," he wiped her spit from his face and refrained from hitting her. She didn't disagree, she simply sat as a woman walked in.

"Is it really necessary to tie her up like that?" she gestured to the wriggling Aveen in the chair.

"If she's anything like her family, yes. Did Eve accomplish her task?" he asked. She nodded as Aveen's eyes widened.

"What task? What did you do?!" she screamed at them. The woman just blinked, looking bored, and the man's lips curled into a smile.

"Let's just say the family is separated, and now you have no one to rely on because John is very distracted at the moment," he snickered and she fought her restraints more.

"No! Sherlock! John! Let me go!" she kicked and screamed as they left her. She screamed until she was hoarse, at which point she decided she would be silent. It wasn't worth ruining her voice to the point of no return.

o0o0o0o

When they came back in, they had loads of questions for her, and she answered none of them. They asked her about her mother, and about the people she knew now. She just glared and stayed silent. They gave up and decided they would just get it from John when they finished the rest of their plans.

Aveen hated hearing them talk about her friends and family in the way they did, but she stayed silent. It was almost as if it was a protest, because she was done.

But that was when the woman walked back in, and untied her. Her first instinct was to kick her, or punch her, but then she saw something in her eyes, and she said, "I'm sorry, but this is to be done," she explained.

Aveen choked out, "Why?"

"Sherlock defied our rules and he has murdered many of us, and so my… partner decided he needed to be punished. This is his idea of punishment," she sighed. Aveen didn't speak again, just crossed her arms over her chest and sat on the tile under her.

She had tears and she bit them back. She would not show fear, only cold defiance. She would be strong… which didn't last long until the woman left.

Aveen sobbed and her shoulders shook as she wished her fathers were here to comfort her. But they weren't. They were off searching for her. Or at least, Sherlock was. She wasn't sure about John, and that just made the tears fall faster.

* * *

John couldn't fucking sleep, and the light coming through the window now wasn't helping. He needed another mission, he needed to find Aveen, he needed to get to Sherlock. He needed everything he couldn't have.

He pushed himself up off of the bed and decided he would make himself breakfast. Forget Mycroft's cooks, he wanted his own food. He shuffled out of his room and down the stairs, "John," Gregory was sitting at the table, with Mycroft…

"Why don't you join us, John?" Mycroft suggested. Gregory already had half his plate gone and Mycroft barely touched his. So it's not just Sherlock, then.

John didn't want to know what happened last night, so he simply sat with his shoulders slumped and he was practically leaning over the table as someone set down a plate of food. So much for his own food. But he thanked the butler anyway.

John ate slowly, and Gregory complained about Mycroft not eating. It reminded John of when Sherlock wouldn't eat, and John would feed him like a child because he wouldn't eat any other way. He smirked and shook his head as that was what happened.

Gregory spooned Mycroft's food from his plate and it was in his mouth before he could complain again. John looked to them and he smiled through the tears that were forming. He looked back to his own plate and heard Mycroft making sarcastic comments and Gregory telling him to shut up.

John's mind wandered far off subject, though. Who could have taken Aveen? And why? Who the hell would want a kid? John thought this was about Sherlock and him… wait. "Mycroft, can I speak to you, alone? Just for a minute, please."

Mycroft nodded and Gregory retreated for a few minutes. John lowered his voice, "I think I know who has Aveen," he said simply.

Mycroft's eyes widened slightly, "And how would you know?" he was curious.

"Well, this has to do with Sherlock, yes?" Mycroft nodded. "I think it was the Elders," he then said. Mycroft laughed. He couldn't help it. "What? It's possible," he defended.

"If the Elders were that childish. The only reason it would be them is if Sherlock really did something they didn't like and now they're doing anything to punish them," he explained.

"Well, it's Sherlock. He could have…" John spaced and just let Mycroft's words roll around in his head and finished eating when Gregory walked back in. He didn't make Mycroft eat any more, but he did eye John suspiciously. John simply pushed his plate away and went back to his room. But not before saying, "Call me when you have another mission," he mumbled.

He didn't care if he had a sprained ankle, he was killing something soon, and if it ain't a Vamp, it'll be Mycroft. Then he chuckled to himself, he could never pull off such a threat. But he felt better trying in his head.

"As soon as you heal," Mycroft said back and John was gone. He might as well have been sulking, but he wasn't. He was just tired. Tired of being in danger, tired of losing his lover, tired of losing his family, tired of being tired…

He knew he wouldn't sleep, but he rolled under the covers anyway. He knew that if Mycroft questioned, he could use his injuries as an excuse to stay in bed until there was another mission.

* * *

Mary was woken by someone at the door, again. She pulled on a robe of Eve's and pulled carefully out from behind her. She padded down the stairs and opened the door, "Here. The woman made me agree to let you have her for now," and he shoved a shaking little girl at Mary.

The girl's eyes were red, and she was obviously scared, but not as much as she was pissed. "Why…" and Mary took a better look at the girl attached to her abdomen now. She couldn't believe the Elder had just given her this person.

"Mary… don't let them take me again," she sobbed as the Elder left…

* * *

Sherlock woke from his two hours of sleep after his walk, and he was rested, but he wanted to stay in bed. Then again, the smell of John isn't very nice right now. He jumped from bed and dressed, the jingling almost worse than the smell. He went back to the main room where he had been thinking about this all the while Aveen has been gone and John hasn't returned, either.

Sherlock paced in front of the fireplace, his feet making the fading spot worse as the sun rose. He felt the heat through the curtains and it didn't distract him, but he hated the fact that it was so cheerful while he was suffering.

That was when he settled, and decided he had to do this. He hadn't tried it yet, and he knew that if was the only thing left, it'd have to work, and to his mind palace, he retreated.

* * *

Aveen looked to Mary with tears in her eyes, "They took me from Father," she sobbed. Mary kneeled to meet her.

She put her hands to Aveen's shoulders, "It'll be okay, we'll get you back soon," she promised. She didn't want this anymore. How could the Elders have been so childish? Aveen has nothing to do with this, she's a small girl.

Aveen disregarded any comments and she latched onto Mary again, wrapping her legs around Mary's waist and her arms around her neck. Her face was buried in Mary's shoulder before she could complain or move her.

She moved to the couch and Eve came out. She recognized Aveen right away and grinned. Mary glared at her, she just looked away, still smiling. She disappeared to the kitchen and Mary comforted Aveen for so long she had her robe soaked at the shoulder.

Eve was only wearing her underwear, but she didn't care and they were all girls, so what did it matter? Besides, Mary was getting a nice view. Eve blushed when she caught Mary looking. Mary only acted like she hadn't been doing a thing as she went back to Aveen.

The raven haired girl moved to lay on the couch, curled into a ball and she let no more tears fall. She couldn't even if she wanted to, anyway. Eve sat by Mary, leaning her head on the blond's shoulder. Mary smiled sadly as she stroked Eve's hair and Aveen just rolled over.

Mary knew that if she was to try to move Aveen she would fuss, so she let her lay there as the sun poked through the windows' curtains. Mary sighed as she turned into Eve, cuddling her head under her chin. Eve accepted her, kissing the top of her head and placing her cheek there.

"He deserves this, you know," Eve said suddenly.

"Does he?" knowing full well who Eve was talking about.

"Yes. He murdered my boss, and I know it doesn't sound like much. But when you know Jim like I did, it was a lot to take in. No, he'll pay for ruining the man I loved and his followers. He didn't get all of us, and for that, he'll be sorry," she spat.

Mary looked to her, "You love him?" she searched Eve's lovely green eyes that were newly full of anger.

"Not romantically, but like a brother. He took me in after I told him the rut I was in, and I started working for him. Don't worry, I love you," she assured Mary with a kiss, and her eyes softened.

Aveen was so confused. So women can love each other like that, too? God, what the fuck is wrong with people? But Aveen was tired, and she fell asleep, snoring lightly. Mary smiled as she picked her up from the couch.

She carried her back to the room that was to be hers, but not now. She tucked her under the covers and turned to find Eve right behind her. "Eep!" Eve just took her in her arms and kissed her, taking her from this room and back down to the couch, where they simply cuddled.

"You know, I don't care if he deserves it, she doesn't," Mary reasoned, also talking of Aveen.

"I know," Eve stroked her cheek, "that's why we'll take care of her, and her father can go die in a hole," she smiled.

Mary rolled her eyes, but she couldn't really judge. She had killed for a lost love before. But she still didn't understand why Eve hated him THAT much. And Perhaps, (and hopefully, honestly) she never will…

* * *

**Again, sorry for jumping perspectives so much... But there is one thing I want you to really think about: What's Sherlock got around his neck? Just wanted to make sure you try to guess at it. And btw, I am now updating Wed and Sun, I couldn't help it. I love writing... but, reviews? **


	10. Chapter 10

Ten: Surprise! You're Wrong!

Sherlock had gone back through the two years he had abandoned John. He went through every detail, every second. Like a movie that you hit fast-forward to. Except he was catching everything instead of not paying attention at all.

And so he sat, eyes closed, breathing shallow and his heartbeat slowed as he delved deeper into his mind than he ever had to before. But if this is what it takes, then so be it.

* * *

John's ankle hadn't healed within the three days it took the bruises to fade as his hand was almost done as well. He still bugged Mycroft for another mission. But he simply said, "Not yet," and John shuffled off like a disappointed child who didn't get the toy he wanted at the mall.

Gregory was there all the while, wondering why John couldn't just have the mission he wanted and Mycroft had told him it was because John needs to heal. Greg thought it was something else, though. But he couldn't quite name it as John sulked and walked off.

No, he wasn't sulking! He was simply… okay, he was sulking. But he couldn't help it. He really wanted to see Sherlock, and Mycroft preventing him from going on a mission only made it worse. He only had three more and he wanted them done and over with.

But, no! Mister Holmes has a different idea. God, why are the people of the Holmes' family so irritating? It confused John, but he dismissed it as he went to the living room where he flipped on the telly.

He figured if anything, he would annoy the elder Holmes into letting him go on another mission. But Mycroft knew what he was trying to do, and he didn't play along. He simply walked past, to his office upstairs, and Gregory was behind him. Wonder what they could be doing…

Actually, it probably was work, John thought. Mycroft has been dragging Gregory down with him lately, and Greg is just soaking up all the attention and not even caring that a relationship with a Holmes, and an MI6 man was a bad idea.

But, yet again, John couldn't really judge. The Holmes boys were a piece of art. A very complex and very confusing piece of art, but they were amazing nonetheless. John sighed as he relaxed into the soft cushions o the couch. He wished Sherlock was here to watch this with him.

He actually missed having that complaining idiot beside him, deducing all the shows' hosts and hostesses in the game shows, and the characters in others. John snorted at that. He was so annoying when he was there, and he was so annoying when he wasn't. John wondered if Sherlock felt the same about him.

He probably did. Everyone has something they think about when they hear their lover's name, right? Although, lately, Sherlock didn't seem the type to be loving. That voice he had heard over the phone was Sherlock's defense mechanism, and John was going to kill the asshole who had activated that, even if it was Mycroft.

He hated hearing his lover's voice being so cold. He liked it better when Sherlock was warm and as kind as one with his intelligence can be. Not completely void of any feeling that John had taught him. He also hated that it reminded him of when they first met, and how blunt and stupid he was to common courtesy.

But then John let out a breathy chuckle, he taught Sherlock how to love. And not love like: I want something so I'll flirt with you. A love like: this is the one who I want to be with, and fuck you if you hate it. That was why John had hated when he was Janine. He hated when Sherlock took advantage of her feelings.

But John had taught him not to be such an ass about his affections. Just because someone has something you want and they were pretty does not mean you date them, and then propose just to get into a heavily guarded facility. Just saying…

That was when John heard a giggly scream coming from upstairs, and his eyes widened. So, he was working, just not on the case. Fucking Mycroft, eh? One minute he has ice cold fingers and the next, Gregory melted them into his skin.

But wasn't that what John had done to Sherlock? He made him realize feelings and how good they can be. Right now, they were more hurtful than fire, but still. Somehow, that was what reminded John of that night Sherlock had turned, and instantly he felt guilty that he wasn't there when Sherlock was bitten.

You know, maybe if he hadn't been bitten, none of this would have had to happen. They could have just kept being oblivious and carry on. But you know, then it would have fallen to Mary and her decision to tell them she's a Vamp. If she hadn't told them, they'd still be stumped and not hurting for each other.

Oh, but these events have happened, and now they have lead to a flustered Sherlock, a captured Aveen, a depressed Mary, and a pissed John. Whoever started this obviously wanted a team that will kill them, no matter what or who they are. They must know that John's a soldier, Mary's a fucking assassin, and Sherlock is just amazing.

Yeah, that's a pretty deadly team you've got there, isn't it? Ah, I see. They aren't all working together, now are they? No, Mary's joined the dark side who has endless cookies and Sherlock and John decided they would stay on the side of the Angels, and watch and drool as she munched in front of them. but the cookies aren't worth the stupidity of some of the things the dark side has planned for those who piss them off.

John wondered why Mary hadn't done something to help him yet. Although, it would be kinda pointless to help him now, he's already advanced too far to go back and he doesn't really need her anymore, does he?

Not really, he has Sherlock and Aveen. And Gregory and possible Mycroft. Nope, he's good. He's got his group of people and Mary can eat it. Oh, but there's the kid. Jesus, John's going to legitimately be a father. Although, will it really be any different than fathering Aveen?

He thought about this randomly, oh yes. This baby will be a Vampire and a human crossed. It'll thirst for blood, and Aveen's just a little advanced. God, why couldn't John Watson's life be normal? Or at least his reality?

He huffed in frustration and flopped down onto the plushy cushions and distracted himself with the television in front of him. He might as well wait, if nothing else…

* * *

Sherlock finally knew why John was missing, why Aveen was taken, and why someone wanted revenge…

So, let us go back to Jim Moriarty. Mm, yes, the criminal mastermind behind the bombings. Sherlock kills him and himself. Well, Moriarty kills himself, but it was because of Sherlock, so, it was Sherlock who killed him. Basically, anyway.

He wasn't human, obviously. He outsmarted Sherlock Holmes, nothing human can do that besides his brother, and even then, Sherlock's not sure if his brother is completely human himself. Ugh! Distractions! Stop it!

Back to Jim, he was a Vampire. Sherlock was surprised he hadn't noticed before. It was a little obvious, really. Always licking his lips, cautious of being close at first, and how he always wiped something from his lips. Yup, Vamp. Plus, it'll make better sense when I explain further.

Sherlock flipped through all the men and women of Moriarty's network that he disconnected. All of them, every last one, was a Vampire. He had gone through all of the deductions he had made about them, and analyzed them closer. All of them had signs like Jim. Right there, and it was painfully obvious that they were all Vampires.

Sherlock wasn't sure how they got such large numbers, but they did. By the way there were at least fifteen maybe twenty men in that network. And Sherlock killed all of them. Now, back to the reason them not being human is important.

The Elders hate to have their children slaughtered by anyone who isn't them or other of their children. And they were especially furious when they discovered Sherlock, a human, albeit a very, very intelligent human, but still human, killing them. Well, Sherlock was guessing they were furious. Why else would they do this?

So do you know what they did? They sent Mary, then Jade, and now this new Eve character that Sherlock has yet to meet. John met her, he knows that much. Why else would they want him out of the picture, except that he had seen her? But anyway, all the women Vampires, sent by the Elders to try to stop Sherlock from killing all of them. but honestly, why would he bother?

Sherlock didn't understand quite why they cared so much, I mean, God doesn't give two shits about humans, so why should a total of four demons give a furry rats ass about their offspring? He guessed they were more sentimental about it, and humans, to them, are weak. So when they find one murdering them, no matter what they were doing, the Elders get pissed.

Sherlock smiled, kinda like he does with John. But anyway, back to the plans of the Elders. There was Mary, to disable John, and when that didn't work, they had Jade. She was to hit on Sherlock, either that or just get him alone, and turn him. So that they could punish him.

They can't simply kill a human without suspicious looks, so he had to not be human. And when Mary murdered Jade, there came Eve. Because Mary was 'defective', Eve got to John, poisoned him, and that way John could disappear and they could get to Sherlock.

Oh, but there was Aveen, she got in the way, as they hadn't calculated. She was really a random fact that became part of the timeline of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. And because she was attached, she needed removed.

So she was taken, and now Sherlock was here, sitting in his flat, vulnerable (or so they think) and they're coming for him at some point. How long had he been sitting here? He's all stiff and his throat itches like a mother-

He looked at his mobile, three days. Ho-ly…shit! John! Fuck! Aveen! Dammit! Sherlock scrambled up, pushing his mobile in his pocket and dashing out the door. He had an idea of where to find Aveen. John, he wasn't sure, but Aveen, he knew, and the jingle of the metal on his chest assured him he would find his soldier at some point. If not, John was dead, and Sherlock shivered at that thought.

But anyway, back to Mary. Oh yes, Mary was left unattached, so what do they do? They give her a child to take care of so that she's still in their plans. Try to confuse the detective into thinking she's part of a greater scheme. Sorry Mary, not so much.

He was about to grab a cab, then realized, he didn't know where Mary was now. And he couldn't simply text her, no, he had to do something else. Where would they put Mary with Aveen? Well, how long ago was it when they gave Aveen to Mary? He could figure it out if he had known more. There's always something…

* * *

"He's close! Too close! We need to strike now!" he complained and shouted at her. She just glared at him. "He's going to get to Mary and Eve, and with them, Aveen. We want him dead?! We kill him now!" he tried.

"You're obsessed."

"What?"

She shrugged her shoulders gently and crossed her arms over her chest, "You're angry that some of our children died, and now you're taking it on him," she explained. "Just because he killed them. Do you have any idea what Jim and his followers were up to?"' she asked and raised her eyebrows at her… partner.

"I don't care!" he literally spat. "He murdered twenty-two of my children, he's done! I'm sending one of our snipers now. I am growing too impatient for this," he muttered and left with a mobile in his hand, him typing furiously at it.

She sighed. She really didn't want this for Sherlock. But what could she do? She was only attached to the man running the show. Wait…

* * *

Mary and Eve sat side by side, on a park bench, while Aveen was trying to run and play, but she couldn't get Sherlock and John out of her head. Eventually, she settled beside Eve and Mary holding hands, and she leaned into Mary.

"It hurts," she said simply. Mary understood instantaneously.

"More for him," Eve chuckled. Aveen didn't much like this Eve character. She didn't care if Mary loved her, it didn't mean she had to. Besides, what did Sherlock do that was so horrible? Ooo, he murdered your boss and brother-like friend. What was there to mourn in Moriarty anyway?

But Aveen didn't realize how many of them he really killed. But she didn't much care that she didn't know. She settled her head in Mary's lap, and it was soft, like John's. She almost cried as she rolled over with her face in Mary's stomach.

Mary stroked her hair with her free hand and Eve tilted her head in confusion. Eve wasn't sure why Mary liked Aveen so much, and vice versa, but she didn't mind. She took Mary's shoulder for her head, and Mary felt so happy she almost cried herself.

There was sadness, depression even, and then there was this. This bliss in knowing that you're needed by someone who isn't yourself. She didn't know why Sherlock didn't enjoy this. Or perhaps he did, and he was just set in his ways. Sentiment was dangerous.

Btu she couldn't understand why Sherlock hated it so much. Just look at Eve, she loves Mary and she's till as smart as ever, maybe even more so. Mary's cheek settled over Eve's hair and she just sat wondering when they'd have to move from this spot.

* * *

John sat up with something he felt at his fingertips. It was a very faint tickling, almost as if it was a dog or possibly a cat. But there was nothing when he looked down. He examined his fingertips, and thought he was seeing things.

They were a faint red, almost a pink. He wasn't sure if that was his mind playing tricks or the lighting or what. He stood and walked to the kitchen to assure himself he was seeing red, and surely enough, there it stayed.

But it grew over him as it turned to a crimson. It was still faint and a glow, and now it enveloped his whole hand. But when he looked to the other hand, it was the same way! The hell is going on! He wanted to scream and try to shake off whatever it was on his skin.

But he knew that'd be hopeless as the pink grew over his forearms and was turning red. The pink travelled further, slowly and the red followed, making it darker. John was so glad Mycroft and Gregory weren't here to see this.

They'd think he was some kind of alien. But he knew he wasn't, he was human, wasn't he? Now he wasn't so sure. He also figured since it wasn't hurting him, he'd examine it as he felt it burn his face slightly and his chest was taken over next.

What was this? Why was it doing this? A few more minutes and it was down to his thighs. Almost as if it was spreading from above. John was so confused, and he was a bit scared still. But now the pink was to his calves.

It was strange. Everywhere the pink spread and the red followed, it burned, then felt refreshed. Almost as if he had eaten a mint and it effected all of him and not just his mouth. Well, his mouth was burning the same way, but it was all over.

As it spread to his toes, he felt himself get a little woozy. He took a kitchen chair as he watched the glowing pink fade into a crimson and he giggled, afraid of what was next and the fact that he probably looked like a fucking Martian.

He giggled even more at this thought. He hated these little waves of giggles, but it felt as though his body couldn't give a whole hearted laugh, and so giggles it settled on. He sounded like a friggin' school boy, but luckily no one was awake to…

"John?" Anthea's eyes were boring deep into his now. She then looked over him and she stiffened. What the hell was that? "Wh-what?" she stuttered.

John tried to stand, but he was tingly all over as he explained, "No need to get all worried. I don't know, either, but it feels good," he giggled. How many times in one month was he going to be reduced to a puddle of some kind of emotion.

Lust, anger, depression, and now this bubbly feeling in his stomach. Anthea looked him over, and the only odd things were the red, and his giggly tendencies. Otherwise, he was John. Then what was this? She circled him, trying to figure out what the fuck…

That was when she noticed what he couldn't. his wounds were gone. Fading, and leaving scars, but still leaving his body. Slowly the bruises faded and she looked down, and surely enough, his ankle returned to normal under the bandages. no swelling, and she couldn't see the bruises anymore.

"Anthea? What're you staring at?" he questioned.

She shook her head, "John, look at your ankle, then the rest of yourself," she suggested. He leaned over himself and looked down, and his eyes widened.

"It's gone," he grinned. Whatever this was, he was getting tired now. Anthea gasped silently as the red faded to a pink, and left completely and John slumped over, his head on his chest and he was asleep. And very deeply, so much so that his mouth was open and he was snoring lightly.

Anthea blushed at how cute John was asleep, but she drug him to the couch, her hidden strength blessing her and she laid him down. She might as well remove his bandages, and as she did so, he mumbled something about tickling, and Sherlock.

Anthea's heart sank for this man under her as she held the white in her hands. She ruffled his hair lightly before gliding past him, and storing the bandage for future use. Her bare feet were soundless across the tile of the kitchen as she left up the stairs again.

Short PJ shorts, and a tank top was hardly appropriate dress for an agent.

o0o0o0o

John woke and his head was throbbing as he sat up. But do you know what wasn't hurting? Everything else. Except for the killer head ache, he was fantastic. He stood and it pounded on his temples as he sat again.

Why does it hurt so much? And what the hell happened earlier? Had Anthea put him on the couch, or had he stumbled to it himself? He didn't remember lying on the cushions, so he figured Anthea put him there.

If so, she's got some serious muscle she's hiding. Then again, she does work for Mycroft, and everyone here has secrets behind their eyes. Why did he think Anthea was any different? He shook his head as the ache started to recede.

Good, he couldn't go about another mission with a ringing in his ears and the pounding on the doors of his mind. But just as he thought it had disappeared, it came back, and it was worse than ever. He cried out in anguish as Anthea was suddenly right beside him, "John? John, sweetie, speak to me," she prodded. But all he could get out was a strangled moan of frustration and he collapsed on the couch once more.

He wanted to be asleep again, but he knew that wasn't going to happen as the pain intensified, and again, started to leave. But this time, when he thought his head was clear, he was ready. But nothing happened. It was tucked away, and he felt fine.

"John?" Anthea shook him when he had become completely still. He stared at her, and she jumped. That look said, 'Get the fuck away from me,' and she backed off. Why was John angry? Again with the moods, and the swings they took to his mind.

His fists clenched and he tied to grip himself into control. And he was trying to stop being such an ass. He took steady calm breaths as he looked to Anthea again, and she exhaled in relief.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, bowing his head, placing his face in his hands. She touched his shoulder as she sat by him.

"Don't be. Whatever's going on, you deserve to feel whatever. I know it's been a lot," she explained and he looked at her with a sideways glance of 'How the hell would you know?' she huffed and rolled her eyes. But she was NOT about to reveal her whole life story to John.

He has enough as it is. Besides, it all full of heartbrake and stupidity, he wouldn't be interested. So she stood, and giving him one last glance to assure he was okay now, she walked away, her heels clicking on the floor. He shook his head at her, she didn't understand anything John was going through.

He had a Vampire boyfriend, a Wicken daughter and now he glows red as he heals at an extremely fast pace. Yup, normal is completely off. But who the hell is normal, anyway? He should still ask Mycroft about his injuries, or lack thereof.

He trudged up the stairs, hoping they'd be done with whatever they had been doing before he had had that weird encounter with red glowing shit all over him. Each step felt better, as he didn't have to worry about his injuries anymore.

He knocked softly on Mycroft's door, only to hear a grunt in frustration, Greg, and someone's feet shuffling across the carpet, Mycroft. The MI6 man opened the door in only his pants, and seemed none the wiser that he wasn't fully dressed.

But it was obvious that what had been going on, was done and over with and John could speak with Mycroft. "Um," he started and seemed nervous with Mycroft staring at him like he was studying every move he made. And he was.

"Spit it out, soldier," he demanded in a low, but defined voice. he noticed the missing bruises, and wondered if that was why John was up here, bothering him.

John stiffened at that nickname coming from Mycroft and he belted out his problems as if he was a private obeying his sergeant, "Something weird happened to me, Mycroft, and I would like to speak to you about it. As soon as you put some trousers on," John chuckled and loosened his shoulders.

Mycroft rolled his eyes at getting dressed, but he said, "Fine," and the door was shut in John's face. the wounds got John to thinking, and he looked under his shirt to his shoulder. Nope, that one's still there. So it healed his current wounds, leaving faint marks, but it didn't get rid of the bullet's scar.

Brilliant… and the door opened again to find two men dressed and walking out, leading John to Mycroft's office. John eyed Gregory in a way that told Mycroft he had to speak to him alone, and Gregory understood completely as he stayed outside the door.

John swiftly took a chair and Mycroft instantly knew this had to be something to do with his injuries, seeing as they were gone. Mycroft was truly astounded when he saw that on the short man, but he has seen stranger.

"I know you've noticed the missing wounds," John said quietly and Mycroft nodded, leaning back in his swivel chair. Mycroft listened as John continued, "Well," John didn't know how to put it into words now that he thought about it.

It seemed too strange to put words to. But he managed, "There was this glow of pink slash red and then I felt all jittery and giggly and then I passed out," he summarized and finished with, "woke up with a monster of a head ache, and now my wounds have healed and I have no idea what the hell to think of it," he admitted.

Mycroft hummed, as this was fairly new to him as well. He'd heard of healing spells, but not this. This happened randomly and it was done on a human. Yes, he's still human, that hasn't changed. Although, John began to question his DNA, but Mycroft knew he was still human.

Then John thought back to the mission that had given him the pain, and then Sherlock and Aveen followed and he was reminded that the only to get back to them was through killing the rest of Eve's people. But Mycroft had different plans, "Would you like us to run some tests to see what could have caused this anomaly?" he suggested.

John nodded, "But only if I get a mission directly afterwards," he conditioned. Mycroft nodded and smiled. This should prove to be intriguing.

* * *

Sherlock had texted Mary, asking if she could please reveal her address to him, but she replied asking why she should do such a thing? He said so he could get his daughter back and she agreed slightly. She said that if he was skilled enough, he could simply track the number she's using to text him about this, which suggested that she was somewhere in the middle about a side to choose.

Sherlock wondered what was keeping her on the side of the Elders. He then figured it was someone very important, and shrugged it off. And so he then texted Mycroft, asking if he could trace Mary's number, oh and please...

Mycroft replied asking why he hadn't just asked before, but Mycroft knew why Sherlock hadn't asked before now, and for that the elder Holmes was disappointed. But he did, nonetheless, trace the number back to Mary.

When Sherlock got that address, his stomach twisted in knots. He knew which house this was, and he also guessed that whoever is there, chose it for that reason. So Sherlock finally shook himself from, well… himself, and hailed a cab.

He repeated the familiar, and he hated how it was so, address and sat back, watching the streets float by and wishing he had John here to admire it with him. Or to hold his hand, or something! He instantly swallowed his thoughts. He knew that if he couldn't stop thinking about it, he'd just think of nothing.

And so the streets took his attention until the car stopped, a good half hour later and Sherlock paid, regrettably and walked up to this house. At least the color is different. He squared his shoulders and took the deepest of breaths, readying himself for the layout of the inside.

He hadn't been here in a long time, but that was because he hadn't planned on ever coming back. And of course, the problem moved from here and she was elsewhere. And now, he had to press that button and get the person on the inside's attention.

He shoved his feelings down his throat and raised his finger, not wanting to touch this white little button again. But he did, and instead of a voice, someone simply pulled the door open. Hm, interesting. So they either don't care to use it, or something happened to it.

And the woman to open the door was interesting, as Sherlock could tell right away what she was, and he also guessed at possibly who.

* * *

Eve was just cuddling with Mary, on the couch, while Aveen was lazily humming in the sitting chair. And then the doorbell that hadn't been used since they 'moved' in here, spoke to them. Eve perked up and Mary looked confused, the Elders knock, and no one else knows who lives here.

Eve cautiously stood and inched over to the door and she opened it as slowly as she could. Then she saw him, and she grabbed him by the throat, almost snapping his neck then and there, "Tell me why I shouldn't," she growled, squeezing.

Sherlock choked out, "Because I don't know your name," he winked. She squeezed one last time, harder than she had been holding him and he dropped to his feet, coughing as air was given back to his lungs, and he almost fell over.

His voice was a little hoarse as he asked, "Where's Aveen?" he cleared his throat. Eve glared at him, but simply stepped aside and he pushed through, the familiarity of this house being very uncomfortable.

So far, this was two enemies he's met here. And twice he's come to retrieve something important. He hated revisiting places. But this one, he had to. Aveen popped up when she saw Sherlock and she ran to him, locking her arms around his hips.

He let the small smile crack, and it slipped away as he simply patted her on the back. She was confused why he wasn't as excited as she was, and then remembered that John wasn't here, too. Instantly she let go, and her spirits were at her toes. Sherlock frowned further when he saw this, but then he saw, "Mary?"

This question wasn't because he was surprised to see her, it was more because she wasn't surprised to see him. Then again, why should she be? She almost was certain he would do this. Mary looked to Eve, and saw her resistance when it came to wanting to hurt Sherlock.

She smiled sadly in recognizing him, and gave Eve a face that said, 'Not yet.' Eve huffed and crossed her arms over her chest like she was ready to throw a tantrum. Mary looked back to Sherlock, and instantly she saw through the mask of pale skin and flesh.

She saw the beginnings of the darkened circles around his eyes and the faint emotion running through the blue and grey probing about the familiar house. She felt bad for Sherlock, despite his actions lately. Eve didn't bother to look past his features and see the worry, the depression, and the love somewhere tangled.

Like I said, they weren't noticeable to anyone, but Mary could see it. Mostly because she spent her time hiding most of her own emotions, and knew how to take apart someone else's mask. Sherlock's was difficult, she admitted, but she did it enough to feel bad for Eve's actions.

Sherlock finally spoke through the evil tension, "So, you must be Eve," he nodded to the green-eyed woman hating him with every look she gave him.

She nodded slightly and never faded in her glare, "Why would you care? You're going to die where you stand anyway," she pointed out.

"Maybe so, but first, I want to know why you took my doctor," he squared his shoulders and purposefully made himself look taller.

She simply broke off into laughter, clutching her stomach and Mary smiled at the fact that someone like Sherlock could be so stupid when it came to this. "That's just it," Eve giggled and gasped for air, "we didn't…"

* * *

**So yeah, Sherlock found Aveen... And I swear I will reveal what is around Sherlock's neck eventually... but reviews? please?**


	11. Chapter 11

Eleven: Maybe It's You That Should Leave

Sherlock stood stock still, and his mask was hiding more than ever as he was majorly surprised and extremely pissed. If they didn't take John, who did? Was he even kidnapped at all? Did he just leave? But if he did that, why? Sherlock fingered the metal under his silk black flannel, no. John wouldn't, that's not his style. He said he would always be there.

"Then who did take him?" the detective finally asked, dropping his hand to his side and looking to Eve, who had stopped giggling. Now she was staring at him in slight awe. He didn't seem to be effected by the fact that he had been outsmarted. Hadn't he? Surely, he was. Now, she wasn't so sure.

Sherlock and Eve started a staring contest as Mary had caught Sherlock's hand when it was on his chest. She knew what was there, and she smiled. At least he cared… "I won't say, because it's painfully obvious," Eve snorted in Sherlock's direction, and let out a chuckle.

Sherlock stared to her, hard. His gaze said nothing, but everything all at the same time. Mary feared this look. And what he said made her shiver, "Is it? Then you wouldn't mind if I just went to get him? Perhaps kill you first," it wasn't a question as he threatened. And it wasn't an open threat, it was more like a deal, a promise.

"You wouldn't, and you can't," she stuck her nose in the air and stared at Sherlock from across the room that Sherlock hated already, and her standing there only made it worse. Sherlock's all-seeing eyes flicked to the rest of her stance before going back to her eyes.

"I would, and I know I could," but he was calm as his voice was all he needed to express his wish of death. Even Eve was a little nervous. She didn't show it, of course, but she was. Well, she didn't make it obvious. Of course she was showing it, and Sherlock had an almost smug look about him now.

But Mary stepped in, "Okay, girls. You're scaring the little one," she almost laughed as Aveen rolled her eyes. The other Vamps gave her stares of admiration but irritation. "Eve, contain yourself, you'll both get your chance soon enough," she assured with a nod and Sherlock simply switched to the same bored face as his tone reflected it.

"All in good time," Sherlock nodded as well, his curls shaking into his eyes as he looked to Aveen. He knew what Mary meant, and he was fine with it. More than fine, actually. Aveen just stood, observing with a flat-line for lips. He gave her the smallest smile and she eyed him, wondering why he wouldn't just give up and let the pale of the mask fall to reveal the blushing to crimson man underneath.

She knew there were things he was hiding that he would never show or tell her, but come on. Emotions are not as bad as he seems to think, and why he thinks they're bad puzzles everyone. He loves John, and more fiercely than Smaug guards his treasure, so why the hell does he hide it? Like Smaug hides his treasure…? (Aveen's mother read her The Hobbit when she was younger, don't judge her.)

Mary understood, but only partly. She knew why he wanted to hide his feelings, but she didn't know why he hadn't given up so far. No one here was going to judge him for loving, and caring. But he acted as if they would. Mary sighed and put her arm around Eve's waist, and Eve finally relaxed and her arm slipped around Mary's shoulders.

Sherlock wasn't surprised at this. He knew that Mary and Eve had something going on when he stepped inside the familiar room. Again, with the mysterious women living in this house. Sherlock could remember when he had first met Irene, and John's face when she was standing naked in front of him.

It was priceless, and when he thought Sherlock loved Irene. That was absurd. Infatuated, definitely, but never love. Although, Sherlock didn't blame himself for that one, everyone was infatuated with her, even the women.

And just when Sherlock was about to just leave, there was a knock at the door and Eve knew who it was, as well as Mary. Aveen was still getting used to it, but she was pretty sure she knew who it was. Eve greeted her Elder as she stepped in the room and looked straight to Sherlock. Her gaze never broke and he almost shivered at those eyes.

He had to say, she was beautiful. Her snow white hair accented her swirled blue eyes well as her curves told him she was meant to make men fall over themselves. And her hair wasn't just down and around. She had braids in the front where she split it down the middle, and the rest was pulled to a tight pony tail that slightly stuck up behind her head and travelled down to her hips, as did the braids to her belt.

She stared as she said, "Sherlock Holmes," and extended her soft hand. Instead of shaking it, Sherlock kissed her knuckles, knowing who this was without a second glance. She didn't blush, but was surprised. She didn't expect him to be so well-mannered. Then again, the Holmes brothers can surprise anyone.

"The one and only," he replied, letting go of her pale hand in his and letting his own float to the chain and he fingered the attachments. They struck each other in a sound he loved to hear, as he used to hear it on John.

She nodded briefly as she stared at that hand now, "My… _partner_," she was disgusted by that word, "is sending someone after you, and as much as I would like you to be punished, I can't let him kill you," she shook her head, and her eyes went back to the now green ones of Holmes. He does that, somehow, they always match the background of where he stands. It's beautiful but confusing.

"And why not?" Sherlock asked, truly baffled. He knows what he did, so why wouldn't she let him die? Didn't she _want_ him to die?

"Because there are other ways of punishing you," she pointed out to his attention. "Other ways that are just as affective. Besides, what you did wasn't any more of a crime than what Jim had done," she pointed out once more as Sherlock was astonished. What had he done to get on her good side?

Eve was shocked to the point of infuriation, and her fists shook as she pounced Sherlock. She struck out to his cheekbones and was about to get to his nose when Mary pulled her off, "Eve! Did you not just hear what she said?!" Mary cried.

"Oh, I heard, and that's why I will get my revenge," she screamed as she lunged at him again, Mary's grip faltering. She let out a battle cry as she was on him again, and finally got to his nose, and his chest.

But he pushed her off and straddled her as he rose his fist to strike. But he didn't, "If Jim matters more to you than your current lover, you don't deserve her," he said, lowering his hand, and he still had that blank but bored look on his face, even through the blood. He had fixed it when surprise broke over it before.

The bridge of his nose was bleeding as well as his cheeks and under his nose was blood still trickling to his lips, and he just let it. Eve pulled herself from his thighs and she stood, watching the blood drip. If she hadn't fed the other night, she'd be gasping and she would have licked it straight from his face. He stood and observed her reactions to the steady flow of dark red.

But she contained herself as Mary never faltered. This showed Sherlock that what she wanted was blood. She wanted revenge, and now he also knew that Jim was much more than just a boss to her. He was what she thought she'd never have: that father figure. The one who cares and protects you from the big bad world.

Sherlock's gaze went from the floor to Eve, and he could see that want. She looked from the floor to Mary and her eyes stayed on that blond hair that she admired more than anything. Those eyes that she could stare at all day without blinking, and she'd be content. Mary caught her staring and smiled as the Elder finally broke the silence and spoke once more.

"Sherlock, I am taking you from here, and I will put you someplace safe," she confirmed as she started to reach for his arm.

He jerked from her, "You can't assure that for John and Aveen, so I will go nowhere. I don't care if I die, they won't," he protested. He stared at her with a glare that would have melted any other person to the floor.

"And if you die, you'll never have a chance to make that promise to John in person, please, you don't have much time," she almost begged this stubborn man. She didn't know why she was helping this insignificance, but she felt she had to.

He shook his head as he flattened his lips, "No, I will not leave," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, the metal under his forearms making him remember that he also had a special band of it in his pocket as well…

* * *

John was subjected to tests of every kind before Mycroft gave him another mission. He was happy to be on the fourth and that much closer to being able to come back to Sherlock and Aveen. He popped up from his chair with a small head ache that faded.

The hole the needle had made, gone. He grinned as Mycroft explained the details and the dangers of this one. "John, you could die," he pointed out.

"Your point?" he contradicted, "Look," he said after that look, the one which says, 'I wouldn't tell you if I wasn't serious,' "I know what the risks are, and I also know that Sherlock, somewhere is taking the same ones for me. I'd be a terrible boyfriend if I couldn't return the favor," he explained.

Mycroft was a little surprised that he was so open about labeling his relationship with Sherlock. But what else was he to call him? It's not like he proposed… no, he shook the idea from his head. Sherlock would say that'd be the worst display of affection and sentiment and would probably deny him.

Mycroft saw that, though. He saw what John was thinking, and he had to say, he could have laughed at the thought process John went through. Instead, he just grinned. John was confused as Mycroft handed him a pistol once more and this time, he also had a short dagger. Why, he knew, but he didn't care, but he knew he would have to use it. The weapon he wouldn't need, would be the M9 he stashed in his trousers.

He nodded to Mycroft as his shoes shuffled across the carpet in a hurried fashion and he was out the door within seconds of that commanding nod that was returned to him. He ran down the stairs, his feet flying as he stood outside the mansion and waited for that annoying car.

He wished he could walk, but it wasn't close enough to do so. Besides, this one was in an interesting place. Also, one that he wouldn't walk into voluntarily. He was silent as Anthea eyed him from the seat beside him.

She resumed typing as he returned the look of a student studying. She smiled when she knew he was looking back. His eyes snapped from Anthea and her phone and looked to the grass and trees outside. They soon faded into more sidewalks and buildings, and the one place John thought he'd never see again, let alone stay at. Actually, he had expected to be here again, but not like this.

o0o

So here it was, sometime in the middle of the goddamn night, and he was outside this building waiting for a, "Target acquired you bloody bastard," he mumbled. He pulled out his pretty dagger and it shined in the moonlight as he struck.

He sunk it into this man's neck, but of course, him being high on the many things in that fucking house, he was almost immune to the pretty knife in his neck that John pulled out. He turned to look at the clot who had stabbed him, and he took a swing when he discovered that John had no fear.

John's face stayed the same as every motion was carried out. A kick, boring, a punch, boring. But when John stepped it up, so did he. High or not, this man was smart. He tried to punch John square in the jaw, but he missed and instead spun round and caught John's stomach with the other.

John hunched over and this man punched his temple, and if it hadn't been for John's high pain tolerance, he would been done already. But he shook it off and landed a few more punches before being swept off his feet with a kick to the ankles.

But he was counting on this, and he rolled and the other man was on the ground next to him as John was on him before he could blink. He landed a huge blow to his temple and others to his nose and his chest that knocked the air from his already dead lungs.

He was about to throw John off when there was that sparkle of the knife found again and he panicked, not being as strong as he would have liked. He tried to block John's hands with his own, but John just pushed them from his forearms and the pretty blade was in his forehead before he could do anymore. Finally John smiled, and grinned when this man was only a body.

And he could feel that red thing healing his wounds already. And after that, was the tingly new feeling and then the pounding head ache. It wasn't as bad as the first or the second and third that Mycroft had caused, but it was still enough to make him drop and howl in pain.

And then there was Anthea, Jesus, what was with her saving his ass from these headaches? She shoved him in the car, blood and all and left the body and the knife for some other of Mycroft's agents to clean up. Usually John would do it himself, as he never wanted to be a burden, but how would he do that with the gremlin pounding on the gates to his brain. It was shouting and howling as John was and then he started to fade.

Yes, John imagined a little fucking gremlin banging on his brain's door, don't judge. How else is he supposed to rationalize what was happening as the crimson faded and the injuries disappeared? The little gremlin was locked away again as he sniffed at the tears and wiped them from his cheeks, as well as blood.

Anthea smiled when she saw him perk up and just stare at his hands. Nasty little bastards, they were. They could be kind and loving, yes. But they could murder without a second thought. Anthea saw that look and slapped his hands into his lap.

"Stop it," she demanded as he looked at her in disbelief. Had she known what he was thinking? He didn't know, all he knew was that she was an interesting character. Explains why he had hit on her the first they met. But she was pretty, too, so…

But he decided to question anyway as he looked to her with his brows knitted together across his forehead, "Stop what?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes at the idiotic man in the seat beside her, "Stop looking at your hands as if you're a horrible man. We both know that's not true," she huffed as she went back to typing and he stared at her in astonishment. Had she just defended him for himself? Oh, that confused him.

* * *

Sherlock looked to the Elder as Mary and Eve stared. But they had different gazes. Eve looked at Sherlock as if she wanted to kill him, and she did. And Mary? She looked at him to say he was an idiot for not leaving while there was time. Aveen was still caught up on the Elder in front of her.

She stared at the astonishing woman as she couldn't tear her eyes away. She wanted to look to Sherlock to see if he was okay, but she couldn't quite get her eyeballs to fucking move. Then she heard his voice and she knew he was fine. Okay, no, but he will be.

"But you know," Sherlock started as he stared at Eve and Mary over there holding each other again, "you could take them away. If he's coming for me and realizes that they did nothing to help…" he left that open to their imaginations and gestured lazily to Eve and Mary and the Elder looked to them.

Their eyes widened as he suggested something impossible for them to do. They wouldn't leave, how could they? They had so much here to do. But the Elder took it into consideration, then asked what Eve and Mary thought they wouldn't hear.

"Would you like to leave?" her hand rose from her side and was palm up as she gestured to the two women in front of her.

"What about Aveen?" Mary looked to her and saw she couldn't get out of the awe of how beautiful the Elder was. She smiled at that and Eve just kept her glare on Sherlock, she was going to look away, and then he suggested that.

"She will be taken care of," the Elder nodded in confirmation as she answered the assassin's question. The brilliant woman beside her simply looked to the floor, and said nothing as she spaced out and left the room for her thoughts. She couldn't stand that Mary was considering not getting back at Sherlock.

Sherlock rose his brows at Mary and placed a hand to Aveen's shoulder to say he would always be here for Aveen. "But…" and she had no more good reasons to deny the request. "Eve?" she nudged her lover.

Eve stared at her, nothing saying she was opposing, but nothing saying she wanted to do this. "What about Sherlock?" she asked, growling as she said more, "He doesn't get punished for what he's done?"

"Oh, trust me, he will get punished. Now back to the offer that only stands for a few more seconds," she raised one white brow at the girls staring at each other and they smiled, nodding. Eve knew that if Sherlock got punished by an Elder, he would hurt.

And so they rushed upstairs together and came back down about ten minutes later with their things. Eve stared hard at Sherlock, then to Aveen who was still staring at the Elder. She smiled at him one last time as the Elder took both of them out the door.

But before she closed it and took them away she turned to Sherlock, "Take care of that girl. She's definitely worth your love, as well as that doctor," and she was gone. The door was ajar, as she knew Sherlock would eventually exit.

But for now, he just stood. He didn't know what exactly to do now. Does he find John? But how if John wasn't taken by Eve? Where else could he possibly be? and that was when it hit him, "Oh, stupid, stupid!" and he scooped up Aveen and finally he, too was out of the house.

Aveen welcomed being held by Sherlock as he propped her on his hip and called for a cab. And it was a good thing, too. Sherlock knew he had been followed and as he climbed in the taxi, they didn't have the chance to shoot or throw or whatever they were going to kill him with.

He recited his least favourite address and they sped off as Sherlock looked out the window, refusing to let Aveen out of his lap. He felt like if he wasn't holding her, she would be gone again. That was what he wanted least right now.

Aveen was finally able to think now that the Elder was gone. She blinked at Sherlock, who was seething with emotion, but Aveen didn't know whether it was anger or relief, or possibly both. The fist to his hand was curled so tight his knuckles were white, but his face said that he was almost smiling.

This confused Aveen, and she gave up as she cuddled into his shoulder and he tightened his grip on her

* * *

John was out again, last night hadn't been enough. He needed another mission this morning, and he had come back unharmed. But Mycroft knew he had had some injuries, as there was now a scar on the back of his hand and he looked so tired.

That was five now, and Mycroft let him stomp up the stairs and to his room. Gregory questioned why he was so good at killing these people, but he also remembered that John was a soldier. He probably did this kind of thing every day when he was serving. And now it hadn't changed.

But John was content when he flopped into the pillows, fully clothed and had only bothered removing his shoes. He sighed as he fell into a deep sleep, knowing that unlike his war days, he was safe. There was one left, and then he was free to go back to Sherlock.

He snuggled into the pillow as he mumbled something incoherent about Sherlock and finding Aveen. Poor John, he was always the one to get hit with whatever the world decided it would throw that day.

Mycroft stood in the doorway of John's temporary room and wondered when this man would stop loving his brother. Love fades, does it not? It's why he just lets Gregory love him, it will fade. It's almost like a phase a teenager is going through. It rages now, but won't stick. Sure, it defines who we are, but it doesn't stay, does it?

Mycroft looked to the man now standing beside him, and wondered why he himself had started loving someone else. Perhaps it was that he hadn't in a long time. Not since… well, not since his last lover left and ended up getting executed in a foreign country.

Yeah, not exactly the best way to end a relationship. Gregory took the liberty of taking Mycroft's hand in his own, and Mycroft welcomed it, lacing their fingers together. "Do you think he'll ever stop hurting?" Greg suddenly asked about John.

"Possibly. With Sherlock by his side, I don't know. But it is possible, I suppose," he admitted. "Why are you asking?" Mycroft asked in return. Gregory shrugged, he didn't know.

"Can we do something else now?" he asked, impatient. He didn't know why, but he didn't want to work right now, as he knew that was what they were going to do after they stopped making sure John was okay.

"Like?" Mycroft asked, raising a brow. Gregory smiled shyly, there was only one thing he could think of right now, and it wouldn't be very nice if John heard it. He blushed as that thought ran through his mind and Mycroft caught onto what he was thinking.

* * *

Eve and Mary gawked at the car that they had slid into and placed their bags on the floor of. The seat were a soft black leather as Mary ran her hands across it and Eve's leg afterwards. The seat in front of them had a man sitting in it and he was driving to someplace that the Elder had ordered him to.

Eve and Mary didn't even care where they were going, they just cared for each other, and of course Eve wanted Sherlock to be punished. But that could wait until they got to wherever they were going. The Elder explained that they were going to the airport where she was going to get them a ticket to the United Sates.

They would have protested, but they knew better. Mary didn't feel like dealing with Americans lately and Eve felt the same. So they simply grumbled and looked out the window to the buildings passing by, and eventually it went to trees and there was a field after that. the scenery took many changes before they stopped.

o0o

Mary's legs were stiff as she stretched them and stood out of the open door. Eve followed as they looked to the building in front of them. people were buzzing about with luggage, coming and going as Mary took in the air. Eve handed Mary her things as she accepted tem and thanked her.

Eve just said you're welcome with a kiss to the lips and they strode off into the building, the Elder following them. she looked so different from the humans in this place, but she stood out beautifully. Mary smiled as many people gawked at the women together and the beauty of the other beside them.

* * *

Gregory took Mycroft by the hand and led him to his bedroom, where there was that plushy and comfortable bed. Despite what John thought of the other day, they hadn't shagged. They had just been fooling around because Gregory didn't feel as though he was ready for that yet.

Gregory was nervous as he drug Mycroft to sit in the bed and he was on top of the MI6 man. He smiled sweetly as Mycroft returned the smile and Gregory was kissing him before he could do anything else. The DI's lips were moving against his and it felt really good.

But this was different from the other kisses, and Mycroft knew that Gregory was definitely getting hard. Mycroft knew he was himself as his tongue glided across the silver haired man's lips. But he also knew that if he took it too fast, that would be the end of this relationship. Plus, Gregory hadn't ever done this with a man before.

He had had a lot of women, but not one man. He hadn't even kissed a man before Mycroft. Which was why he was so confused that he liked it. But this was Mycroft, there were many things he did that confused people.

Gregory's jaw dropped to let out a sigh and Mycroft took advantage by letting his tongue slide through his lips and prodded Greg's to meet him. Gregory perked up and he slid his tongue in beside and around Mycroft's and he let out a pleasured moan.

Mycroft hadn't even touched him except for his hands on Greg's hips and he was already moaning. Mycroft could tell this would be fun, teasing cum out of his newfound lover. Mycroft had been with both a man and a woman and he had to say, this was different from both.

He felt more than he had with the others, he supposed. His hands swept under Gregory's shirt and scaled his back as his hands were warm. Greg smiled into the getting deeper kiss as he melted into those hands.

Gregory's hands had no idea what to do as they just rested on Mycroft's shoulders. He wondered if he should do the same, or if he should start removing Mycroft's shirt already. But he was glad that they were in PJs still. They hadn't bothered to leave, so what was the point of getting dressed?

Well, as Mycroft's hands slid Gregory's shirt over his head, they were currently undressing, and it was amazing. Gregory let everything fall from their attention as he decided now would be the time to strip that simple dark green shirt Mycroft wore.

And that was when Mycroft parted his knees and brought Gregory down on him as they flopped into the covers. Greg let out a small, "Eep!" and Mycroft chuckled as he kissed him again, this time their tongues tangled without hesitation as the heat had grown and their breaths became heavier.

Mycroft's groin jumped from the bed and was on Gregory's in a short moment which made Greg moan and Mycroft's pants become shorter. Greg's hips collapsed and he was rubbing on Mycroft endlessly as his back arched in pleasure.

Mycroft's arms went around the DI's neck and brought him closer for more kisses, since he could barely breathe anyway. Greg's breath also left his body when Mycroft's lips were on his and Mycroft thrust their groins together again and again.

Gregory was sure he was dripping already as Mycroft's fingers drifted over the band of his PJ pants. He gulped as they separated and he stared at that hand. Mycroft chuckled at those wide eyes, and slipped his fingers under the band, pulling them to his thighs, and letting his own do the rest as they slid to the floor.

Gregory kicked them off as his body was pressed to Mycroft's again, and now the only fabric to keep him from being naked was his pants. But Mycroft still had trousers. Well, not anymore as Gregory pulled them from his slim hips. He placed kisses to Mycroft's earlobe as his shaky hands were all over Mycroft's chest.

Lestrade felt awkward as Holmes' chest was peppered with small brunette hairs and his was bare. He had never grown hair there, and he regretted as well as appreciated himself for it. Now he felt self conscious. But Mycroft's hands felt over that soft skin and he loved the way Gregory trembled to that warm touch.

Mycroft nibbled at Greg's neck as his trousers were kicked off as well. Greg moaned when he found a 'feel-good' spot. Mycroft then took advantage and marked the skin there, making it his. Making Gregory his, and letting people know just as much.

Greg just moaned as he rocked his hips into Mycroft and he let a moan slip as well. Gregory had a smug smile playing his lips as he kissed Mycroft again. And again, and then his tongue was in the mix, giving sloppy kisses, but they were both satisfied as Gregory did something he wasn't sure he would be able to.

He hooked his fingers under Mycroft's pants and looked to his lover to confirm he was allowed as Mycroft smiled and Greg took that as a yes. And when he pulled them down, he found that Mycroft was just as undone as Gregory was and he was holding back.

Gregory's lips split into a grin when he saw this and he pulled his own pants down, rubbing their bare erections together, figuring it would feel good. And it did, it sent shivers down his spine and he moaned as Mycroft did as well.

Mycroft's hands clutched Gregory's ass, squeezing and bringing them closer, rubbing them together several times before they had their pants off completely. Now they were starkers and it felt strange to be naked in front of Mycroft, but then again, he wanted this so badly. He had never wanted something so badly, and not know what he wanted. But right now, this was what he was feeling.

"I want," he stuttered, and Mycroft prompted more from him.

"Yes?" he purred into Gregory's ear.

He shook his head, "I don't know, but I want something," he said. He really didn't know what he wanted. Would he be taken, or the other way around? But when Mycroft went digging for something in his night stand, he understood what he wanted as cold yet warm fingers were pressed in between his ass cheeks.

"I know what you want," Mycroft licked at Gregory's ear and he moaned when on digit slipped in, fully and no pauses. But there was one at the end as Greg was getting used to having something inside him. How had he not known this could feel so good?

But the real sensation came in when Mycroft slipped in another and twisted, hitting Gregory's prostate spot on. Greg yelped which faded into a heavily breathed moan. Mycroft's other hand squeezed again, making Greg jump and they rubbed together again.

"This may hurt at first," Mycroft said, pulling his fingers from Gregory and placing his hips to where he could access Greg easily.

"Wha-?" he was about to question when Mycroft pushed into him. His head travelled past Gregory's entrance and slipped in all the way and Gregory could feel all of it. He could feel Mycroft pressing into his inner walls and it did hurt, at first. Now all that was left was pleasure as he moved his hips slightly, prodding and making Mycroft move.

Mycroft's arms came around Gregory's back and pressed them together, squeezing Greg's erection in between them as he rocked into Gregory. They moaned as this felt so good to both of them. Greg's arms went around Mycroft's neck as he flicked his hips forward and pushed himself back onto Mycroft, meeting him with every thrust.

This could have lasted so much longer if Gregory was used to this, but as he wasn't and Mycroft had hit that spot inside, making electricity crackle and burn his body, he was close to tipping over the edge. And when Mycroft touched Greg's erection as best he could with Gregory being in between them and Gregory could feel his vision blurring as his eyes squeezed shut.

Mycroft could feel Greg's orgasm building as he was squeezing around him, and his was so close. A few more thrusts and a few more pumps and they were both undone, moaning and screaming one another's names as they rode out the orgasms they hadn't had in such a long time.

Gregory felt Mycroft fill him and he let out a sigh as he completely collapsed onto Mycroft, the MI6 man pulling out of him and cuddling close, pressing Gregory's softened cock between them. As first times go, that was the best for Greg. He kissed Mycroft's neck as he tasted the salt from the sweat he had caused.

But he had been sweating as well, and when their lips locked again, Gregory didn't feel so self conscious anymore. Now he knew Mycroft would love him for who he was, and not who he wanted to be. And the, "I love you," confirmed Gregory's discovery.

"I love you, too," Gregory huffed as their lips were on each other's again, and never left as their tongues slid together.

* * *

John woke suddenly to the thought that Sherlock was dying, and when he saw that he was at Mycroft's he jumped from bed and slid his shoes on. He needed to be next to Sherlock again. He had to get to his lover and his daughter.

He couldn't rest again until he had done so, and that was when he rushed down the stairs and found Mycroft and Gregory, somehow they had managed to get both of them in a kitchen chair, Gregory on top of Mycroft, and it surprised John that he was still here.

But he greeted both of them as he asked for the last mission. But Mycroft's reply was only, "You're done, John Watson."

"What?" he tilted his head in confusion as Gregory smiled.

"The last target," he nodded, "is elsewhere and no harm will befall Sherlock or London. Well, it won't be from them anyway. I'm sure there'll still be much trouble in the future. But for now, you're finished," he gave a tight smile and John was disbelieving the words from Mycroft's lips.

"I can go home?" John asked I confirmation as he watched Gregory grin.

"I would like it if you did, yes," he nodded.

* * *

**You guys have no idea what Sherlock and I have planned... this should be fun... hehe. Reviews?**


	12. Chapter 12

**Guess what fans?! You get to figure out what's around Sherlock's neck! R&R please...? :) Enjoy...**

* * *

Twelve: I Propose A Bond

Sherlock burst through the door of Mycroft's mansion and found the kitchen instantly and was enraged as he yelled at his older brother, "Where is John!? And why can't he come home!?" His fists were clenched at his sides and Gregory's eyes widened at his state.

He had never seen Sherlock show so much emotion for anyone or anything. Aveen popped out from behind him and waved nervously as Gregory waved back and Mycroft was completely calm. "Why don't you ask him why he can't come home?" he suggested.

"Wha-?" and he turned to see John coming down the stairs. Instantly everything was forgotten as he swept him off his feet when he reached the bottom of the stairs. John squeaked in surprise.

"Sherlock!" John laughed and Sherlock just kissed him furiously, placing his feet on the floor again. But their lips never left each other's as Sherlock automatically deepened it and John's tongue slid into Sherlock's. He was so happy to finally have his lover back in his arms. They both were.

But the happiness dulled a bit as the anger returned and he let go, scolding John about leaving him. John rolled his eyes and looked to Aveen, who had wide eyes and was slowly crying. He pushed the nagging Sherlock to the side and squatted as Aveen wrapped her arms around his neck, welcoming her father back into her life.

She cried into his shoulder as Sherlock stopped yelling and looked to her, his mask falling over his pale skin again. He decided he could just wait until later to ask about John's adventures, when he wasn't so pissed at Mycroft. When he could actually think about John and not the feeling of abandonment.

He observed Aveen and John and the tears John had running freely as well. Sherlock tilted his head in confusion. Why were they crying? And then he felt a sting come to his own eyes. What the hell? What was there to cry about? They were happy, were they not?

Oh, well, that makes sense, I guess. Elaboration: you never realize how much you really missed someone until they re-enter your life. Then you consume them and you remember all the things you had forgotten to miss. Makes sense, yet it doesn't.

John stood, scooping Aveen up and placing her on his hip as she cuddled into his shoulder, "Can we go home now?" he asked Sherlock who just smiled, the mask long forgotten when he was thinking. He took John's free hand as his other slipped into his pocket and he fingered the box under his digits.

He grinned as the tears stopped and they managed to get a cab outside. John slid in first as Aveen let go and sat beside him, Sherlock sliding into his other side. He couldn't help the kisses he put to John's cheek and his neck and his lips.

But John returned them and their hands linked and John couldn't stop smiling. He was finally going home, he was finally at peace. At least for a little while. And he also decided he would do something once they got home.

Sherlock will probably complain that he'll be leaving, but it'll probably only take about fifteen minutes to do what he wanted. And he knew what he wanted…

o0o

"I'll be right back, Sherlock, let go!" he laughed as the detective held fast to his abdomen.

"No! I haven't scolded you properly yet, and we still have to talk about… stuff, John!" he complained. John ruffled his curls and pried his arms off.

"I swear, fifteen minutes," he promised and gave Sherlock a quick kiss and was down the stairs and out the door. He decided he would walk as he needed fresh air.

Sherlock was left in the flat to think about what he was going to say to John about his many emotions. He felt abandoned, pissed, depressed, and somehow he was happy he felt those. He was happy he could feel again.

He set the red box in front of his nose on the table he rested his chin on. This should prove to be interesting. Scold him for leaving, then make up, possibly have sex, and then… Sherlock blushed and he shivered at the thought of John saying yes.

Which begs the question, where was he going now? Why did he have to leave? He said fifteen minutes, so it couldn't be too terribly important. Maybe it's just a small errand and then they could finally relax.

Aveen walked into the kitchen and eyed Sherlock, then the box. "What's that?" she asked. He explained everything to her, and she grinned. "I'll leave you to that, then," as the door opened and John stomped up the stairs impatiently and greeted Sherlock in the kitchen. Luckily he had slipped the box back in his trousers before John had the chance to see it.

John prepared himself for the scolding Sherlock had promised. But Sherlock hugged him, kissed him, and sat him down. "I decided not to yell at you," he explained. "But I still want to know why you had to so heartlessly abandon me for so long," he eyed John as they had both their hands joined on the table top.

John's eyes dropped to their hands, where his thumbs were massaging Sherlock's and he looked back to those blue eyes that had a hint of grey. He loved those eyes.

And he finally explained, everything. Mycroft and his conversation in the hospital, his leaving, his adventures of murder. And his feelings about it all. About how he missed his boyfriend and his daughter and even Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock laughed when he got to that.

Then it was to the weirdest part of his adventure. The part about the pink turning red stuff. The part that he was sure would make Sherlock drop his hands and walk away. But Sherlock simply tightened his grip and they kept eye contact. John's blue eyes were sad as he expected Sherlock to leave.

But they brightened as he hadn't. Sherlock smiled, "I will have to figure out what the red thing is about," he said. It was interesting. But he thought it was even more interesting when John had described what he had seen between Mycroft and Gregory. Mycroft was always against love, as Sherlock had been. But as Sherlock had, he changed.

"In the meantime?" John wondered.

Sherlock just smiled nervously as he leaned over the table, "I love you," he whispered as the sound of the metal under his shirt was prominent and John's eyes widened. Both at those words and that familiar sound.

"I love you, too," he kissed Sherlock's ear and his hands wandered to Sherlock's shirt. He had to know if that was what he thought it was. His hand reached down Sherlock's open flannel and Sherlock grinned as he thought John was after something else.

But then the chain was pulled out from under and his playful grin slid to a simple smile as John gawked at what he hadn't seen since they moved in together. He wanted to ask if they were his, but he knew they were as his name was written on them.

And yet, his mouth was still stupid in asking, "Are these my dog tags, Sherlock?" Sherlock blushed.

But he said, "That really is a stupid question, as they have your name on them. But, yes. I found them on the floor and I took them because…" why had he taken them? "I took them simply because they were yours," that was easy enough, and still the truth.

He looked up to the man hovering above him and Sherlock had to put his hands to the table to steady himself as John crushed his lips to Sherlock's. Sherlock chuckled against John's lips and John let out a low and short moan.

"Sherlock," Sherlock rested his forehead to John's and hummed in response. "I have a question for you," he looked into those eyes and they had all of his colors, green, blue, and grey. Somehow, they all tangled in there and it was beautiful.

The detective looked into his doctor's eyes and into the dark blue he said, "And I have one for you as well," he smiled and walked around the table to stand at his soldier's side. He slid his hands in his pockets, looking down on John.

And then there was his nerves. They ruined everything. Making him sweat lightly and his throat go dry and all the stupid shit he could do without. But John saw all of this, and he smirked to see the sociopath nervous about a simple question.

"I think you should ask first, Sherlock," he looked up at him expectantly. Sherlock simply nodded and fingered the box for the last time before he decided to just get it over with.

And then he was on one knee in front of John. His hand still in his pocket, and when he finally pulled that little red box out, John's eyes widened. Was he really…? "John, I may be an arse, but you've dealt with me enough to love me. And I wanted you to know, that I return your love completely and that you should stay," he opened the small box to reveal a band of silver, "with me, for as long as possible," damn.

"You know, Sherlock," and he was worried John would say no, "it's funny you ask, because um," he chuckled nervously and plunged his own hand in his pocket. And when it came back out with a box covered in purple felt, Sherlock froze. "I was to ask the same," he opened the box to a band of gold and Sherlock's eyes almost fell out of his head.

"I- I… I don't understand. Is that a yes?" Sherlock stuttered and John laughed, pulling Sherlock from the floor to sit on top of him in the chair.

"If I wear yours, will you wear mine?" Sherlock finally gave an open mouthed smile and nodded furiously. John slipped the gold to Sherlock's finger as Sherlock did the same with the silver. Funny how things turned out, isn't it?

There sat the boxes, side by side, the red and the purple and it was gorgeous as Sherlock's lips landed on John's. Slow, meaningful, telling each other to never leave, never, ever again. And the moment wasn't ruined, really.

It was… compromised, as Aveen came trotting to the kitchen. She giggled when she saw Sherlock sitting on John like that, and he scowled at her. She stuck her tongue out at him and he rolled his eyes. Then Aveen's complaint made them both remember, "I'm hungry."

John nodded, "Angelo's?" he asked Sherlock as he stood and Sherlock simply nodded, smiling. Angelo had always insisted that those two were together, and now look! John also realized what Sherlock was thinking about, and he chuckled under his breath. "C'mon," and he took Sherlock's hand as he scooped up Aveen with the other.

* * *

Eve settled on their new couch, it was plushy and soft and reminded her of Mary. Mary giggled when she sighed and pulled the blond to her lap. Eve stroked her hair and suddenly said something that wasn't exactly expected, "I did it for you."

"What do you mean?" Mary's brows furrowed in question.

"Leaving Sherlock to the Elders, I did it to stay with you," she explained.

"Why?" her smiled faded quickly as she looked to her lap and back to Eve's eyes. Those lovely gems that could make anyone melt.

"How do you mean, 'Why?' Because you're worth it," she brushed Mary's hair from her eyes and swept what she could behind her ear.

"Um, not really. I'm a cold hearted assassin, and pregnant, let's not forget. And on top of it all, John left me for a _man_. Don't you see anything wrong with this picture?" she gestured to her face, then the rest of her.

"So, strong, brave, sweet, beautiful, and with a gorgeous child is wrong? Tell me how that works?" Eve asked, and Mary had no words to contradict the ones Eve just gave her.

All she could muster was, "I love you," and Eve laughed. And Mary's low giggle joined her and they had no idea why they were laughing, they just thought something was funny. Perhaps it was laughing off tension. They didn't know, but before long they were breathless and wiping tears from their eyes.

"I love you, too, Mary," Eve said, still a little winded. But the breath was knocked from her again anyway as Mary's lips found hers. And then Mary was straddling her on the couch and Eve gave up, flopping on her back and Mary's lips parted hers. And her tongue, God, it was euphoric.

Eve and Mary hadn't had a good snog in a while. Not since Aveen was with them, and she wasn't here to stop anything now. Hmmm… Eve hummed into Mary's mouth, hoping she would get the memo. Mary got it alright, and moaned into Eve's tongue.

And then Eve's hands were pinned above her head With Mary's fingers locked in between her own. "Mary," Eve warned and her fangs poked her bottom lip, and she smiled. She decided to continue into, "I'm in need of a good shag," she smirked.

"Happy to oblige, darling," she whispered to her ear and her fangs also descended as she nibbled at Eve's ear with them and she moaned. Then they were tracing the vein in her neck and she shivered. But Mary had to ask before she did anything, "May I?"

Eve nodded, whimpering. Mary's teeth sunk into her slowly, savoring the flavour of her skin and eventually the blood that hit her tongue. Her new wound was seeping blood before she could moan from the pain and then the pleasure that followed. Her vision was blurring as the drugged feeling set in and she was consumed by the lust that trailed along.

And Mary's touch was magnified as her tongue against her skin felt so good. She sighed and moaned when the holes in her neck were closing and Mary's lips put apologetic kisses over it. Her soft lips eventually travelled to her shoulder that was blocked by her shirt.

Mary's fangs were still descended and she used them to her advantage. She traced Eve's exposed collarbone with one and when her shirt was over her head, they traced her bra-line, which just happened to be just above her nipple.

She moaned as Mary stripped her own shirt and was on her again with kisses and licks torturing her collar bones and the part of her neck that connected to her shoulders. She found a sensitive spot and tried her best not to cut Eve again as she left a love mark.

This all just made Eve whimper under her touch, and she hadn't realized that her jeans were undone and to her knees. But when she did, she kicked them off and put Mary under her. She decided she would get one trick in before Mary took over completely.

And unlike Mary, she didn't ask before sinking her teeth into her pretty little neck, and Mary gasped as her toes curled into the cushions of the couch. Eve moaned against her neck and she knew Mary would be suffering from the same symptoms of uncontrollable lust now. She licked at the new wound, making it heal.

Now she took advantage of the heightened lust and feeling by sinking down to her knees and undoing Mary's trousers with her teeth. It was actually surprisingly easier with fangs to help. Mary's legs shivered under Eve's as she pulled down her pants as well.

Then she pulled both off in one swift motion and realized that Mary was still wearing her bra, and so was she. This was problematic. So she simply moved up again and placed kisses to Mary's lips as her claps was undone and there was her bra on the floor. And Mary returned the favor, knowing Eve couldn't do it herself in this position.

But before she was down again, Mary insisted she have her pants gone as well. It wasn't fair that Mary was completely starkers and she wasn't. And eventually they were both naked as the day they were born, and Eve's breasts brushed over Mary's abdomen as she placed kisses down her body and reached her thighs.

She tortured the skin with her teeth, nipping and biting. Not enough to draw blood, thank God, but enough to make her moan wriggle in anticipation. Eve left a slowly formed love mark on Mary's thigh and moved to the curls that were so adorable on her.

Her nose was tickled by said curls as her tongue and teeth tortured Mary's clit. She moaned and begged for more when Eve slid her tongue into Mary. And her fangs somehow hit the outside, making this sensational zing zoom through her body.

Eve hadn't noticed she had used her fangs until she heard that scream of a moan. And she used this to her advantage as her tongue curled, licking at Mary's walls. Making her crumble like cake, and she was as tasty as cake, too. When her tongue receded she nipped at Mary's clitoris and it left her throbbing for more.

But Eve left her and made her take action as Eve was pushed into the cushions. Mary growled as her fingers were mercilessly plunged into Eve. She loved it when the blond took over, she was always so sensationally dominant.

Mary's fingers curled and scissored as her thumb made loving strokes to her clit, making her moan louder than Mary had. She chuckled as her kisses went lower and lower and her fingers were replaced by a tongue and teeth.

Eve could have passed out and came right there if Mary didn't go easy on her with the first few flicks of her wonderfully wet tongue. Eve couldn't help the moans she let free as Mary's name was somewhere in that mess of excuses for words. Mary loved leaving her speechless or confused.

And then her tongue was replaced by her fingers again as they were as deep as she could go. And somehow, she hit that spot that made Eve scream a moan. Mary was confused at first, then realized what she had done and stroked there, making Eve's breath leave her as she was shaking violently.

Every time Mary's fingers stroked, she jumped from the lightning shooting through her legs and her abdomen. And she couldn't hold on anymore and Mary's hand was soaked. Mary's chuckled as she licked the sweet taste of Eve from her hand and fingers.

Eve swore if she hadn't just been dealt with, the sight of Mary licking at her fingers would have made her horny again. And as Mary was about to relieve herself from the painful arousal, Eve didn't stop her fingers from going inside herself.

She simply pulled one of Mary's out and placed two of her own in with her, pushing Mary's digit to her walls as Eve took advantage and tried to find that spot Mary had found. And she was about to give up when she heard a delicious low moan turn to a growl as she finally found it.

"There?" she purred into Mary's ear as she nodded.

"Right there," Mary moaned and Eve's fingers glided over that spot again and again. Very soon Mary was riding through her orgasm and the next thing she knew she was laying on Eve. She was panting short breaths as her fangs disappeared.

Eve's were gone as well as her hand was still wet and she decided she liked the way Mary tasted when she licked it clean. Mary grinned as the pleasure was still fading and she was kissing Eve again. "Mary," Eve started under another kiss.

Mary hummed into her lips, "Yes?"

"We have a mess to clean up," she gestured to the clothing on the floor and the sweat they had built up. Mary sighed, grumbling about her always being right. Eve chuckled as Mary was standing, stretching out her tired limbs.

She had almost no energy left as she bent over to pick up their clothes. Eve saw this as an opportunity to give Mary's bum a good swat and Mary squeaked. Eve grinned as she headed down the hall to the bathroom they haven't used yet.

Jesus, they weren't even settled and they had already had sex on the couch. This should be fun…

* * *

"Sherlock, you finally did it?!" Angelo congratulated the couple, and saw they were both wearing a ring. Sherlock didn't feel like elaborating on why they were both wearing one. And Aveen just stood there, grinning like an idiot, but saying nothing. "Well, anything you like, free of charge," he said as he ushered them to a table.

John smiled at Sherlock's glare at some of the people who were staring at the couple and their daughter. Aveen waved to this one woman who waved back and smiled. The man sitting beside her seemed disgusted and she kicked him.

He glared at her and Aveen laughed. John was confused but Sherlock had seen what the woman had done, and he was smiling too. John rolled his eyes as Sherlock and Aveen exchanged glances and they started laughing. John quirked a brow at them and they just continued laughing.

He shook his head and picked up a menu to try to distract himself with. And then he felt Sherlock's foot running up his calf and he kicked it away, blushing. Sherlock loved that response and did it again. John's face was red before he quit.

Aveen smiled at John, who simply returned it and they ordered when Angelo came back out with the candle he always sets down in front of them.

* * *

"Why did you stop him?!" he yelled at her.

"Do you really want to know why?" she asked calmly.

"Yes! Now!" he demanded and she shook her head and smiled.

"Because I gave him a new assignment," she replied, and snapped her fingers and a man appeared from behind her and he had a blade. A lovely kitana that could easily kill anything. "Because instead of punishing Sherlock, I will punish you," she smiled warmly, despite the blade behind her.

"The other Elders would never allow that!" he said, trying to have his pathetic life spared.

"Oh? I consulted them this morning after relocating Mary and Eve, and they agreed that you deserve this," she gestured to the sword as the man behind it grinned.

"That- what?!" she simply chuckled as the pretty blue blade was quick and his head rolled from his shoulders. She was happy to finally be rid of that cock, and she turned to the assassin.

"Thank you," she said and bowed slightly and he nodded, saluting and disappearing out the door. "Chao!" she called to the dead body that was bleeding like Niagara Falls, and she also disappeared out the door.

She thought about punishing Sherlock for the murders of her kin, but honestly, all he did was eliminate a threat. So she decided she would let all of it slide, and if he slipped one more time, she would strike. Otherwise, she was dormant now.

Of course, she was now alone in watching this part of the world's Vampires, but she didn't care. Being alone was much better than being stuck at that retch's side…

* * *

"Mycroft," Gregory giggled, "I have to get home, and eventually back to work. And so do you," he stood from Mycroft's lap. He growled, making Gregory lay on the bed under him as he placed kisses to his neck.

"I know, that's why I don't want you to go home, because then I have to try to work while thinking about you," he complained and Gregory gave him a long and wet kiss.

"It's okay, I'll have the same problem," he pointed out. "But I have to go," he wriggled out from under Mycroft and pulled the door open, only to have Mycroft attached to his back as they wobbled down the stairs. His arms were possessively around Gregory's chest and waist as they reached the kitchen where Greg had left his jacket.

Anthea gave them a suspicious look as Gregory shrugged it on, and she managed to look away to the floor when the silver haired man gave his MI6 man a kiss. Mycroft huffed in irritation as he sat in one of his chairs. It was late and he was kinda hungry now.

He would ask Gregory to stay for dinner, but he knew the DI had a lot of work to catch up on. "I love you," Greg mumbled into Mycroft's ear.

Mycroft nodded, whispering it back and there was one last kiss before Gregory left…

* * *

Sherlock had finished what he was going to eat for the night, and propped his feet up on John's chair, in between his knees. John was blushing while he finished his food. Aveen wondered what was happening under the table, but she also didn't want to know.

John hated that Sherlock was doing that to him. But at least Aveen was sitting in just the right position to hide what Sherlock was doing. He had taken the liberty of rubbing his heel across John's groin a few times and John swore he could have choked the life out of that arse. But not seeing Sherlock in so long, it was getting him hard just thinking about all the things he wanted to do.

Sherlock could see that John was getting ideas, and he knew tonight they would have the best welcome home sex ever. Sherlock himself was getting ideas. But Aveen was clueless as they exchanged aroused glances and were out the door.

John left a tip for Angelo, simply because he felt bad that he couldn't pay. And Sherlock hailed a cab, reciting their address. Aveen sat beside John on the inside and Sherlock sat by the window, smooshed into John, whispering dirty things to him.

Sherlock didn't swear much as he described in explicit deatil, but just his voice made John harder. And once Sherlock finished and nibbled on John's ear, John returned the favor, and he had the mouth of a soldier alright. But when he finished, he kissed Sherlock's earlobe and left a trail of saliva on his pretty, pale neck. Sherlock shivered.

o0o

"You have school in the morning, little miss," John wiggled a finger at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm so looking forward to sitting beside complete idiots," she said sarcastically.

Sherlock laughed, "Then make sure to show off as much as possible," he patted her head, and her wet hair. She huffed and kissed her fathers goodnight before slipping into her bed and John tucked her in. He moved her wet raven colored hair and kissed her forehead.

"Sleep tight," he soothed and she sighed, dozing right then and there. She was really tired. And when John reached the door, her breathing shifted and he knew she was already getting deeper into sleep.

Sherlock stood in the doorway of their room when John returned, and he was only wearing his pants and John's dog tags. And it was funny, because his pants were the same color of purple that his button-up was. John loved that color against his skin, and the silver against his chest.

"John," Sherlock hummed and John walked past, stripping his shirt and his shoes and eventually his trousers. John slipped under the covers in only his pants as well and motioned for Sherlock to get in with him.

So Sherlock rested his head on John's chest as he said, "I want to try something new," he looked up, and kissed John's jaw.

"What would that be?" John asked, wondering what he could possibly want now. He knew they were going to end up shagging, but what could make it any better.

And when Sherlock made a suggestion, his eyes widened and he chuckled nervously while blushing furiously…

* * *

**Now you have to wait for his idea... Mwahaha... Reviews?**


	13. Chapter 13

Thirteen: Under The Stars We Lie

"You want to tie me down?" John blushed hard as he looked to Sherlock. Sherlock simply nodded as John proceeded to then ask, "Why and with what, exactly?"

Sherlock smirked, "Because you're mine, and you won't ever leave again," he twirled the ring on his finger to make sure this was real, John did the same. "And you know that stupid scarf you pull me around with all the time? I figure I can use it on you instead," he grinned and John returned to blushing like a schoolgirl.

Then he just flopped down and pub his hands over his head, "Fine," John smiled, "I love you," he said.

Sherlock nuzzled his nose, "I love you, too," and it was to his closet to find where he put that blue scarf. Then he found it, on the floor and he had to bend over to pick it up. John enjoyed that view. Sherlock stood straighter and raised a brow at John, "See something you like?" he teased.

"No," John smiled, "I see something I want," he smirked as Sherlock understood and motioned for him to move his hands closer to the columns of his headboard.

He wrapped the two ends around John's wrists once, tied it off and tied the rest to the headboard, enough to keep, but not enough to make it impossible to escape. Once John was helpless, Sherlock straddled him, inching his pants from his slim and perfect hips.

That look that Sherlock was giving made John's eyes go wild with lust. That look of defiance, as if John was telling him no, and he didn't care. Watching John's breathing pick up just a bit and his pulse jump through his skin made Sherlock harder.

He wanted that pulse in his mouth, that breath to be his. He did claim John's breath with a deep kiss, but his pulse would have to wait, as Sherlock wasn't ready, and neither was John. He wanted it, but not so much so that he was going to take it just because.

John moaned into that kiss, Sherlock rubbing against him being too much for him not to rumble a moan. Sherlock smiled against John's lips and did it again, this time on purpose, and John moaned louder, trying to pull Sherlock in for more with his tongue.

Sherlock did finally moan when John's hips took a leap of faith and their groins smashed into one another, "John," he growled. Another kiss was taken, but this one was hungry, and not for John's tongue, for his everything.

John was pleased, as they separated he grinned, which was wiped away when Sherlock squeezed him. Then he gasped and moaned when the grip softened and went into sweet rubs. "Sherlock," he shivered and wanted to touch the Vampire, but his hands were tied, literally.

"Sh…" Sherlock replied, knowing it would echo from John's skin and make him whimper in want. That was when their pants disappeared completely and Sherlock was finally naked, rubbing them together and making the hottest friction and John couldn't help but to love every second of it.

And suddenly Sherlock wasn't on his body anymore, he was on the edge of the bed, digging through the nightstand, and then John understood. But just because he understood, doesn't mean he has to like the loss of contact.

"Get your lips over here and kiss me," he demanded. Sherlock grinned and pounced, his fingers now soaked in the lubricant he took it upon himself to squeeze out. He teased John's entrance with his fingers, and somehow his words as well.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you, and I may consider it," he smirked and planted kisses along John's jaw to his neck.

John whimpered slightly and wriggled at Sherlock's fingertips. But he mustered the breath enough to say, "I want you to fuck me, now. With your fingers, with those lips, with your fucking cock. Stop the goddamn torture and just fuck me already!" he huffed and Sherlock smiled.

"What about the rest of us? What about," he left it hanging to kiss one of John's nipples, "there, or…" he kissed John's collarbone, "here? Hm? And what about…" he left a trail of butterfly kisses down to John's abdomen, but his fingers still kept teasing John's entrance.

Slowly, lightly, lovingly, almost, as his lips travelled to John's blond curls and he kissed the bottom of John's shaft, "here?" he finally finished and John moaned with a huff at the end.

"All of it, I need all of it," he begged, "Fucking pound into me and bite me and wrap those lovely fingers around my cock, ah! Just do something and stop teasing to much!" it surprised Sherlock just how much John's soldier-mouth turned him on. All the swearing combined with poetic words, it was breathtaking and made him twitch, and his fangs were poking out brilliantly.

John eyed those white pleasure makers and he wished he could- oh! They were on him now, tracing his veins, and he knew they loved feeling the pounding under his skin. Sherlock licked at John, and nipped as best he could without creating a bloody mess that he couldn't clean up.

But John moaned and writhed under all of it, and Sherlock finally let John have two digits. All the way up, stroking his prostate and making him moan louder. John finally relaxed and Sherlock pulled out his fingers and teased by stroking John's entrance with his cock.

John was panting, but he managed, "Stop… teasing…" Sherlock's hand wrapped around John's cock and he squeezed as he eased into the soldier.

He moaned at how good this feels and how long he went without the feeling of John around him. John's wrists pulled at the scarf and it didn't come undone, but it showed Sherlock that he should start moving, even if it was just a little.

And that was what he did to his lover, still teasing with small thrusts that was nowhere near enough. John wrapped his legs around Sherlock's hips and forced him in further and Sherlock chuckled against the blond's neck.

His fangs traced that vein that he loved to feel on his tongue. And under his tongue, it jumped and he was pleased. John twitched in Sherlock's hand. Sherlock was being such a fucking tease, but with what he was thinking, it would all be worth it in the end.

And just as John was becoming impatient, Sherlock slammed into his prostate and his teeth followed into his neck. John screamed at the pleasure from those actions being put together and how sensationally weird that was. Sherlock was pleased, and John tasted amazing.

He showed his appreciation by stroking the cock he still had in hand, and John whimpered which was followed by a moan. When Sherlock pulled his teeth from John, the doctor whined at the loss of more of Sherlock inside him.

The detective licked at the wound and the stray blood that seemed to always escape. John begged, "More… harder," he panted and Sherlock finally obliged and thrust faster, harder hitting John's sweet spot every time.

And each time, John gave the loudest moans, and somehow Sherlock's name was in there, but Sherlock was returning the favor as he called John's name many times. And the hand around John's member? It was torture having those fingers on him and not doing a thing.

And of course Sherlock knew that he wasn't moving that hand, but he eventually did, timing it with every thrust. But none of this lasted more than about twenty minutes before both of they felt that wonderfully tight feeling in their stomachs.

At that, the scarf did come a bit loose, but not completely untied. John pulled on it almost as hard as he could because his orgasm was powerful enough that he could have pulled a fucking car. John tightening around Sherlock brought him over the edge as well, and he possessed John's mouth as his own as he filled the man under him.

Sherlock couldn't stand it anymore and he could barely move as he collapsed beside his lover, half on him, but beside. His fangs had disappeared when he did so, and he untied the stupid blue scarf that still held John's wrists.

John's hands instantly brought Sherlock closer, finally able to feel the skin and he pressed Sherlock so close that if they hadn't just got done, they'd both have an erection with that one. But it was okay, because they simply enjoyed the close company.

And then the bliss after an orgasm was gone, and they realized the mess they had made, again. John sighed as he told Sherlock they should probably clean it up. He sighed heavily before getting up and helping John situate the room to the original state and soon they were off to the bathroom.

They had the quickest shower they'd ever had together, just so they could get back to bed, and finally sleep together. And did they sleep. It felt so good to finally be in his arms and hear his breathing, they couldn't help how tired they were.

Especially after a good shag, it was almost heaven. Until morning came, and they had to get up. Sherlock woke first, watching John as his breathing changed and his eyes fluttered open. At first he was surprised, but then he realized and his lips were on Sherlock's in seconds.

"I thought it was possibly just a dream," he smiled and looked at Sherlock.

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't, or last night would have been an interesting part of your imagination," Sherlock grinned and kissed John once more.

"Wouldn't be the first time I imagined… never mind," he smiled and Sherlock raised a playful brow in question.

"Tell me, what do I do to you in your head?" he asked. John instantly blushed and shook his head. "Oh well, I guess that's for another time, then. Besides, Aveen gets to go to school today, and you have to go to…" he eyed John's lazy features. "You called in sick," he stated and John nodded.

"I did," he sat up and traced Sherlock's collar bone, "I figured I needed a break from the excitement," he explained, "or would you rather me leave again?" he asked.

"I'm good," he said, sitting up and meeting John's lips in the process. And Aveen burst through the door.

"Get up!" she complained and jumped on the bed between them, "I get to go to school!" she cheered, "I want food and then I want you to walk me to school!" she complained and was happy at the same time.

John pulled her down on top of him and hugged her tight, "You'll go when we say so, and go get dressed," as she was still in her PJs. She huffed and he tickled her and she giggled instead.

"Stop it!" she swatted at is hands helplessly.

"Stop being so grumpy, then," he suggested and she gave up, laughing until he let go and she slid off the bed over Sherlock. "I guess we should get up, huh?" and he laughed when Sherlock rolled over and brought the sheets over his head.

Instead of pulling them off, John went under with him and placed kisses on the back of his neck, "Sherlock," he purred and Sherlock shivered at that voice.

"Do shut up, John," Sherlock rolled over and instead of kissing John again, he pulled him by the wrist from the bed and over to their closet. "You should get dressed," he said, handing John jeans and a flannel, and he dug out something for himself as well.

Sherlock dressed in John's favorite shirt and trousers, but that shirt… The Purple Shirt Of Sex, that was what that shirt was to John. And Sherlock knew it, as they dressed and he walked to the kitchen and swayed his hips a bit more than usual. "Quit," John smacked his ass and walked by to the coffee pot and Sherlock grinned.

Aveen shook her head as she was munching on cereal. She ate that a lot, and I'm sure that if someone let her, she'd live on it. Obviously, John and Sherlock don't let her, but still. She was finished once the coffee was done and she was impatient, practically begging for Sherlock and John to finish so they could take her to school already.

"I hope you know that the way we're walking you is a good twenty minutes as well," Sherlock pointed out, "and there'll be distractions… like flowers," he suggested as her smile dropped and he laughed.

"Stop it, Sherlock," John kicked him lightly under the table.

"I seem to remember having control last night, so why should it be any different today?" he teased and John glared at him. But he grinned as he rubbed his foot on John's calf. John simply wiped the annoyed face from his features and drank the rest of his coffee.

Sherlock didn't finish, but dumped the rest down the drain as they slipped on socks and shoes and Aveen was still impatient. "Hurry up!" she complained as she circled John. He ruffled her hair as she glared at him and they were finally down the stairs and out the door.

o0o

Aveen was so happy she almost forgot to kiss John goodbye. And as she planted a kiss on his cheek, John returned the favor and she motioned for Sherlock to lean over. His face was pink as he complied and she gave him a kiss, too. She giggled as she waved goodbye and disappeared in the crowd of children.

John took Sherlock's hand and they stood and watch as she was gone, and so were the other kids. But some of the mothers of those children were rude, snickering and whispering about John and Sherlock. John caught one, and all he heard was, "stupid gays…" and he was pissed.

He turned around to find the culprit and told her, "If you have a problem with my relationship, say it to my face instead of to my shoulders," and she reddened in annoyance.

"She's gonna be picked on in school because of you two ruining her life," she snorted.

"Maybe it's you that should control your children to not be so snarky," Sherlock commented, keeping cool, but he was squeezing John's hand to death.

At that she scoffed and John said in a hurry and didn't realize what he had said until Sherlock rose a questioning brow. What he was this: "No, I'm sorry don't say anything to my face, say it to my lovely ass as I walk away from this unneeded conversation," and he thought it sounded good. But in reality it just sounded really weird.

"You know, not even that, because it belongs to me," Sherlock commented before they walked away and the woman was so flustered they could hear her complaining to her 'friends' about what they just said to her. Her friends only laughed and said it serves her right for fucking with the most famous gay couple there is around.

"That really was a weird comment, John," Sherlock chuckled and John blushed.

"I don't know why I said it, it sounded better in my head," he admitted as they approached the flowers Sherlock had been talking about. It was a circle of bushes that had one opening and a bench in the middle.

"Many things sound better in your head," Sherlock commented as he suddenly pulled John into the circle.

"Not the fact that I love you," he smirked as he was pulled to the bench. Sherlock smiled as he sat down and John followed.

"I love you too, moron," he insulted.

"Git," John said as he sighed and leaned on Sherlock, taking in the smell of the flowers he hadn't noticed before. Although, he had only come by here once and that was in the winter, when the flowers wouldn't even have been blooming enough to tell that they were flowers.

But they were beautiful. John stood and walked over to pick one, and it turned into picking all the small ones in the grass as he sat crossed legged and made a flower crown. Sherlock watched his fingers work as he sat down behind him, leaning into his back as he kept weaving.

"It's beautiful," Sherlock said when he was finished.

"Not as beautiful as the man I made it for," he commented and placed the little blue flowers in his curls. It was brilliant against the dark brown that consumed Sherlock's head.

Sherlock smiled as John turned and was sitting in his lap as he simply hugged him. He couldn't help breathing in the man under him, and snuggling closer as those long and lovely arms wrapped around him in turn. He nuzzled Sherlock's neck and Sherlock responded with a small shiver.

John did it again and Sherlock shivered again, making John look at him. No words were exchanged as their lips met in perfect unison. Slow, loving, and just lovely all in itself. These kisses were hard to come by, but Sherlock and John managed to give them all the time.

It was almost as if they knew what they wanted, and how to give it. But that was good, because it meant that they were finally joined. Now the last step is marriage and a 'happy ending'. As in cases out the whazoo and Aveen eventually going with them on them.

John smiled at that thought and Sherlock returned it, almost knowing exactly what John was thinking about. And then there was a cough behind them. John looked up to find someone new. "Yes?" he asked.

"That's unacceptable in a park and you should leave now," he scoffed and pushed his glasses up.

Sherlock didn't turn, but he knew that this was yet another complaint. "And who are you to say so?" John said, his grip on Sherlock's shoulders becoming harder.

"A concerned citizen," he snorted and John rolled his eyes.

"I don't deal with homophobes well," Sherlock finally said and the man recognized that voice.

"Y-you're," he stuttered. "Apologies," he said and he was off, his face reddening. John laughed and Sherlock pulled him down as they laid in the grass.

"By the way, I don't believe in homophobes, they're just arseholes," John commented as Sherlock tilted his head in agreement.

"Hm," was his only comment before he pushed John's lips to his own. And then he suddenly separated, "John?" he asked. John hummed and he said, "I have an idea for later," he stated.

"Oh?" John quirked a brow and Sherlock smiled, spilling it…

* * *

"That's just stupid," Eve commented as Mary shrugged. "No, why would your sexual orientation matter when it comes to teaching?" she complained.

"It doesn't to me, but to them it does. Look, it's nothing," she said placing her hands over Eve's fists, "I'll find work, just not there apparently," she scowled.

"Why don't you go back to being a doctor?" Eve suggested, smiling in encouragement.

Mary smiled back, "I could, but why would I when I could teach what I've learned? I want a more relaxed job now," she said. "I'll just get another interview with another school, or possibly a college," she tilted her head as she thought.

"Ooh, a sexy college professor, I can do that," Eve purred and winked as Mary blushed and smacked her hands playfully.

"Down, girl," she laughed and Eve licked her lips suggestively and Mary just laughed even more as Eve joined her.

* * *

"That does sound lovely," John nodded as they walked.

"A wedding in the flowers? Yes, it does. Mrs. Hudson will go crazy," he laughed.

"What, she wasn't in on you asking me to marry you?" John asked as he stepped closer so a bike could get by. But he didn't step away again, as he realized that was too far away.

"No, actually. I decided just before I went to Mycroft's that I was going to ask," he admitted. "I didn't want you to leave again, so I decided to tie the last knot," he explained.

"I honestly had been planning to, but I didn't get a ring until I got back," John said referring to the leave he took from home for a while. He still hates that.

"Well, I think it was brilliant that we were both thinking the same thing, again," Sherlock commented and John blushed as they approached the flat door.

Sherlock drew out keys and they slipped in before John said, "Great minds think alike." Sherlock shook his curls and smiled as he pinned John to the door.

"Thinking alike now?" he breathed into John's ear and John chuckled.

"I'd hope so," he purred back and Sherlock's lips were on his, hungry. "Last night not enough?" John questioned. Sherlock grunted in response as his lips travelled down under John's flannel and he nipped at John's collar bone.

But John had a little thought that made him drag Sherlock to their bedroom as he picked up that scarf again and tied it around Sherlock's eyes. "I want you to feel everything, and no peeking. I want to be your world, and you will be mine," Sherlock nodded as he gripped John harder and John pushed him to the bed.

Sherlock didn't object or question why John had blocked his vision. He knew why, actually, and it was quite arousing just thinking about all the things John could possibly do that would be powerful enough for him to feel and love without seeing John do it.

Like the chilly fingers stripping Sherlock, and those fingers that wrapped around his length, teasing as he slid off the trousers and pants. "Just this one thing," John said as Sherlock heard shift to his knees and place his hands to Sherlock's. "Sherlock," John looked up.

"Yes, love?"

"Feel," he reminded him and it wasn't difficult to feel the kisses and the licks that took place making Sherlock whimper and moan. John hummed as he took Sherlock into his mouth, and pulled off with a kiss to his head.

This was torture, yes, but that was what John was going for, as this hadn't happened in a long while. Too long. Sherlock's grip on John's shoulders was killer as John just kept repeating. Kisses and licks and a few nips, and then his whole mouth, then nothing, and eventually start over.

But Sherlock could feel that tight feeling in his belly and he tried to pull John away, but he stayed as he impaled himself and swallowed encouragingly at the precum dripping. Sherlock couldn't take it and screamed John's name as John swallowed all that was given. "You taste sweet," he mused.

Sherlock's fingers eased and he was panting, "I wouldn't know," he commented. So John got an idea and he shoved his lips to Sherlock's and then his tongue. Sherlock groaned as he accepted and he could taste John, and then there was something else.

Oh, that was him, and he had to admit, John wasn't wrong, but he didn't exactly like the flavor either. He liked John better. But he hummed when John let go and he finally removed the 'blindfold' and smiled into those sparkling blue eyes on him.

o0o

Aveen was finally asleep, and Sherlock wanted to take John to that place again. "What about if she wakes up?" John suggested as he receded Aveen's room and closed the door.

"She won't, come on," he pulled and John pulled on a jumper for warmth in the night, and Sherlock simply took him down that stairs and out the door they were and Sherlock locked the flat behind them.

John took Sherlock's hand in his own and their fingers twirled together as they walked back to the flowers. Sherlock pulled John into the grass under their feet and John squeaked at the sudden change.

But he cuddled into Sherlock's chest as Sherlock said in a low voice, "Look at it, John, almost as beautiful as you are," he commented and John blushed as he turned to the stars.

"Mmm," he decided not to argue as he listened to the slow beat of Sherlock's heart. He was glad that stereotype wasn't really true. Vampires still have a beating heart and John loved the sound of it.

But he looked up to the shining of the stars out and smiled as Sherlock pulled him closer, whispering those lovely words John loved to hear, and John repeated them, pulling a satisfying hum from Sherlock in return…

* * *

**Short, sweet and to no point, as the next chapter will be better... I promise. But, Reviews? **


	14. Chapter 14

Fourteen: Back To... Normal?

Aveen was going to school now, like she should be, and she loved it. Sherlock was right, just show off and it's not so boring. John had gone back to work in the hospital, saving more lives than just the one of his lover. And Sherlock? Well, he went back to cases, small ones, big ones, boring ones sometimes.

But, they never got lost to routine. They always had something to excite them and rile them up, and then they'd settle again. For instance, holidays… Sherlock, mm, dislikes holidays. But John and Aveen adore them, so he deals with it, for their sakes. Plus, with Sherlock being something 'unholy', he didn't like celebrating things like Easter or Christmas.

But this month around, it's Halloween, and he can deal with that, even now, when they were shopping because Aveen wanted something scary. "I don't like frilly, girly things, I wanna be a pirate! Or a Zombie!" she jumped in excitement as if she were a bubble as Sherlock smiled.

John chuckled as she skipped through the costumes and found a pirate's outfit. "Look Sherlock, she's a little you," John teased when she said she wanted that one.

Sherlock scoffed, "Nowhere near… shut up," but he smiled when she said she wanted to be a pirate. John and Sherlock didn't want to dress up to be anything, so they were simply going to just get her a costume and then go.

But then Aveen randomly came off with, "You should be a captain," she pointed to John, "and you should be the cabin boy," she giggled. Sherlock was a little insulted that she would say he should be the cabin boy, but John rolled his eyes.

"Nope, it's only you that gets to dress up. Come on," he placed a hand to her back and they went to buy Aveen a pirate costume. She would look cute as a pirate, though. And the long black hair is perfect. But all it could do was make John think of Little Sherlock being a pirate, that would have been adorable to see!

o0o

* * *

It was already dark outside as they finished off the last of her make-up. Sherlock complained that it didn't look right on her, but John said it was utterly adorable, especially with the little red bandana. Sherlock gave up and said she was cute anyway.

John joked, "If we were to dress up, would you be a Vampire?" he smirked.

"Shut up, John," and he ushered them out the door and Aveen said she knew a good spot her mum used to take her, she even knew the street address to start at. In fact, she was the one to tell the cabbie where to go and at first he was confused as to why he was taking orders from an eight year old. But when she spouted off a perfect address, he drove.

o0o

"That was amazing!" she jumped from the cab, remembering her 'booty' as she rightfully called it. But it wasn't near late enough, as it was only 11:30 and they were getting back. "Oh! Can we watch a scary movie?!" she buzzed as the flat's door flew open and Sherlock marched up the stairs, annoyed.

But he was always annoyed with spending time around hundreds of people, and John knew this. It was why he didn't question Sherlock storming up the stairs. He simply followed as Aveen hung onto his arm, begging him to watch a movie, "Please!"

"Alright!" he laughed and patted her head as she sat on the couch expectant for the Samsung TV to turn on any second. She hadn't even bothered to sort through her candy. She decided she would do so after or while the movie.

She was eager as they flipped through the many movies that were showing tonight, in celebration of Halloween. "Here," he decided, "it's not exactly scary, but it's a family movie. Sherlock?" he looked to the man curled up in his chair and he snorted.

"Really, John? We're a family?" he scoffed. "If that's the case, then families are the most dysfunctional of relationships."

"Sherlock," he leaned over the man and rubbed his back as the curls shot up.

He narrowed his eyes at John and stared to Aveen, who was just staring at him. But he said nothing as John continued, "We were a family even before we met Aveen, didn't you see that? And now look! We're engaged, and we have a daughter! I'd consider that a family," he explained.

He eyed both of them before he rolled his eyes and stood, swooping John from the floor and in his arms. John let out a, "Eep!" as he was carried to the couch and sat in Sherlock's lap. Aveen smiled and her attention was focused on the telly as Sherlock pulled John down on top of him.

They laid on the couch, their legs tangled in a way that their feet landed in Aveen's lap, but she didn't mind as she had her candy beside her. She was already digging through it as she watched the little wiener dog on the telly.

"John," Sherlock whispered as he stroked the hair at the nape of John's neck. John hummed in response, as he always does. "I love you," he whispered as he examined the gold on his finger.

"I love you too, Sherlock," John mumbled before turning his head to look to the movie. He could hear the slow but defined heartbeat of Detective Sherlock Holmes, and it pleased the Doctor John Watson…

o0o

"Sh," Sherlock whispered against John's cheek, "listen." And he did as he caught the light snores coming from their tired daughter as the credits rolled by. They both smiled as they moved from the couch, and John shook her lightly.

"Aveen," he chuckled as she opened her tired eyes. "Come on," he said, "we need to get you cleaned up and off to bed," he explained and she nodded, mumbling about her candy that Sherlock had seized and plopped on the table.

"It'll be there in the morning," Sherlock said as he ushered them back the hall to the bathroom. She didn't want to clean up, she just wanted to go to sleep. But they did manage to get the make-up and the outfit from her before she dressed in PJs, yawned, rubbing her eyes and finally fell into her bed. John kissed her forehead and she fell asleep, Sherlock brushing her hair from her face.

John smirked at the fact that before, he wouldn't have given two shits about someone who wasn't him or John, and now look what happened. You could tell he loves Aveen, as any father should. But he caught John smiling and he rolled his eyes, getting up from the edge of the bed.

"What's so funny, John?" he asked as they exited her room and John closed the door softly.

"Nothing at all," he said, still smiling. Sherlock rose one brow in a face that said, 'Really?' and John shook his head, "It's cute how much you care," he said simply before shuffling to the main room and plopping down on the couch.

He looked at his watch and it was definitely time for them to go to bed themselves. Just because John didn't have to be in tomorrow, doesn't mean he doesn't need sleep. They gave him the day off because one, he does most of the work now, and two, it was the day after Halloween, who wouldn't be tired?

And, it was a Saturday, so he didn't have to go in the day after either. And Aveen doesn't have school. They could finally have a full weekend together, even if Sherlock gets another case. John actually hoped they'd get another case, he was a bit bored just laying around the flat.

Yes, he loved the cuddles, but he wanted to get out now. To run around London after a killer that may not even be there. Plus, all he's been doing on Sundays is having Mrs. Hudson come over and 'help' him plan the wedding.

I mean, she does help, but not as much as John would like. Aveen usually just sits around watching telly and Sherlock is almost always out on a case. But when the wedding does finally roll around next year, he'll be the happiest man, so all this annoyance and boredom was well worth it. Or at least he thought so.

Sherlock said it was going to be like any other day when they were married. The love they had for each other would never increase or decrease any. John would always blush we brought up the fact that they loved each other.

He always acted as if it was just another thing, but it wasn't. He really loved Sherlock, and vice versa. But I guess that's what you get when you make a sociopath experience feelings. That made John feel special as well. Sherlock was so different when they first met. And even the next day he could notice things that were different from the day before.

I guess you could say from the moment they met, they were meant to find each other in one o two ways. Either they could be the best of friends, which they had been, or they could be the hottest couple in London, which they were. But John likes being a couple better than anything.

Sherlock's voice brought John from his thoughts, "Come, John. I'm tired, haven't slept in two days…" and he grabbed John's hand and led him back to their room. John closed the door as Sherlock stripped. Then there's that.

They've reached the part of their relationship where they could sleep naked together without anything happening. Of course, there were the nights where things did happen, but not tonight. John stripped and slipped under the covers as he cuddled into Sherlock's naked body and sighed before he fell asleep to the beating of his lover's heart.

Sherlock placed a kiss to John's forehead before snuggling closer and falling asleep himself…

o0o

John was right, Sherlock had a case, but he was awake to hear the phone call from Lestrade. And he had no idea what the case was about, but Sherlock was definitely excited. He was hopping about the room, getting dressed as he spoke, saying he was taking John as well.

"Get up!" he was grinning and threw John's trousers and pants at him. John struggled to get up as Sherlock left the room, fully dressed and John presumed getting Aveen. He looked to the clock on the night stand, and it was a decent time to be getting up, so he couldn't complain.

John slipped back into clothes as he met Sherlock and Aveen in the kitchen. Aveen was eating as Sherlock beamed and grabbed John by the shoulders. He planted a kiss on John's lips before hugging him, "It's been a while since we've been on a case together."

John chuckled, kissing him again, "Excited I can see. What is it this time?" he asked, referring to the situation of the case. Sherlock's smile split into a grin as he started to explain what he had already told Aveen…

* * *

"Yeah!" Eve cheered as she kissed Mary. "My girlfriend is a sexy college professor. I love you!" and she kissed her again.

Mary laughed as she said, "Well, I start on Monday, but yeah. What do you think they'll think about me?" she asked, referring to the students.

"They will love you," she explained and Mary embraced her lover.

"Want to know something?" Mary asked and Eve hummed against her neck. "My girlfriend is sexy no matter what she is," she said as Eve looked to her and grinned.

"If it weren't for that baby I would shag you properly," she flirted. Mary smiled.

"I know you would," she rubbed her swollen tummy. "It's too bad that a month after I start teaching I'll have to take leave for the baby."

"Don't worry, he won't get in the way of anything. I'll take care of him while you're gone," Eve assured her girlfriend. "Besides, I'm sure little Ivan won't get in the way. I love children," she smiled.

Mary smiled, "Ivan Lestate Morstan," and she ran a hand over her stomach once more. It sounded so beautiful for a boy, she didn't even know where she had gotten it. Yes, the names were of Vampires, but they were lovely, don't you think?

Eve smiled and was suddenly on her knees. She lifted Mary's shirt and placed a kiss on her tummy, "I'll love him just as much as I do you," she assured.

"I suppose that's a lot then," she carded her fingers through that lovely long hair. Eve nodded as she stood once more and kissed Mary's cheek.

"Hungry?" she asked. Mary nodded and Eve automatically had the car keys in her hand and they slipped on their shoes as they hurried out the door. Mary hated her swollen feet, but Eve had calculated it right, she was hungry.

* * *

"Holy shit! Five?!" pardon John's language. They were sitting in the cab by the time he understood what was being said to him. "Is there any connection?" he asked, knowing there probably was one.

"Not a one so far, isn't this so much more fun than staying at home and planning a wedding?" he asked as he grabbed John's hand and kissed the silver he planted there.

"It is a nice break, yes. And I'm sure Aveen thinks so as well," he leaned over to find her staring out the window. "Aveen?" they both asked and she turned to them, but she shrugged.

"I don't know, I quite liked sitting at home watching Doctor Who," she explained. "Although it is exciting to know there's someone out there who has a genius plan for those five people, because they're obviously still alive," she pointed out and Sherlock ruffled her hair.

"Yes, brilliant," he complimented and she smiled.

But John just said as they stopped, "She learned from the best," and at that Sherlock grinned as he swatted at John to move faster.

"Come on, we have five people to interview," he pushed and Aveen popped out behind him. She grabbed his hand out of habit and Sherlock accepted, knowing it didn't matter. Or at least he thought it didn't matter. John was smiling again, like he had the night before and Sherlock eyed him from a glance.

What was with him and smiling like that? Sherlock didn't know, but he wanted to find out. Then again, two cases is too much. So as they approached the daughter of the first kidnapped person, he decided he would wait on solving John Watson.

She saw Aveen's hand in his and she smiled sadly, asking if he was the Holmes everyone spoke of. When he said he was, "Oh, Mr. Holmes! Someone took my daddy, and I don't understand," she complained.

Sherlock then asked after he had deduced this one, "When exactly was he taken?" and Lestrade was over there with Donavan, trying to get the one man to calm down enough to speak

"I'm not completely sure, but I would say around eight, as I wasn't home," she takes care of her father, but he's not that old. So she's a daddy's girl.

"And why weren't you home?" John asked.

"I have a job," she said bluntly, almost as if they should have known. Sherlock knew, but John wasn't Sherlock Holmes, now was he? "But I came home at nine and he was gone. Usually he's cooking dinner for us, but he wasn't and I discovered he was gone," she let a few tears escape as Sherlock stored the information she could manage.

"You don't seem as broken some of the others," Sherlock stated.

"I believe in you," she shrugged as a few more tears fell. She was definitely sad that her father was gone, but she had faith in the consulting detective.

So Sherlock moved to the next girl who was sniveling, but she was quite a bit younger. Sherlock would say fifteen. With this one it was her sister that was missing. She could barely get anything out before breaking down again. John comforted her as she simply stared at Aveen.

It was evident that Aveen reminded her of her younger sister. "How old was she?" Aveen asked. She had to know.

"She was nine, and I left her alone for five minutes… five," she whispered and more tears. She was dedicated to her sister, almost like a mother would be. Her parents weren't around, and she was taking care of her sister. Of course, Sherlock was already seeing a pattern here.

So they then moved to the rest. There all together three women and two men. The three left that he questioned had a missing brother, a mother and another father. And all of them had been taking care of them.

The one man couldn't believe he had left his brother alone. They weren't very far in age, but his brother was his life. And the momma's boy? He could barely look at John and Sherlock without bursting into sobs. But the last woman with the other missing father was completely composed…

She hadn't let any tears go an she stated all she knew about her father and the disappearance. She was a soldier, even Aveen could see that. John saw it first and Sherlock had deduced it a Aveen noticed. Interesting, all the others had boring occupations: teacher, secretary, football coach and an accountant. But she was a soldier, and for some reason that made her interesting.

Maybe it was the fact that John was his favorite soldier and it was rubbing off on him as an interest. Not a faddish, really, but definitely an interest. With this one, she had just come home and she didn't see the exact person who took her father, but she had heard a struggle in his room.

But when she got there, he was gone and the window was open, showing his absence. Sherlock wasn't sure who was doing this, but it was evident that they were doing it to tight family members. Two close fathers, a mother, a brother and a sister. The people they cared for more than anything.

Sherlock was definitely puzzled as he spoke to Lestrade, giving him all his deductions and everything he was told. Aveen was amazed as John grinned at that look on her face. She adored her father's abilities, just as much as John did.

Even on the can ride home, she was starry eyed and staring at Sherlock as if he was God. She had never seen him so interested and solving a case like this. Now she didn't want to go to school on Monday so she could hear the result.

But she knew she had to, and she regretted it. School wasn't as exciting as Sherlock on a case like this. John agreed as he had to go back to work on Monday and he, too wanted to see the result of this. Sherlock's excitement was rubbing off on John in the sense that he enjoyed a good case like this as well. But he knew that if he skipped out on Monday people would question.

Aw! But this was so much fun...! And then John realized it really wasn't decent to be so excited about kidnappings. But… well, yeah, he should quit. It was Sherlock's job to be the sociopathic idiot excited about murder and kidnappings and anything else they ran across.

Aveen just stared out the window as they stopped and she scampered from the cab and up the stairs to flip on the telly to try to catch the next episode of Doctor Who. John could see her love of that show, but he wasn't much interested now. As he wanted to know if Sherlock had anything.

And when they walked up the stairs they heard the theme song playing, and her singing along. It was quite funny to hear those sounds coming from her. But John smiled as he sat in the kitchen chair and waited for Sherlock to show off.

"I'm sorry," he stated before plopping in the chair himself.

"For?" John asked, curious.

"I don't have anything yet. Sorry," he apologized again. John shrugged, he didn't really expect him to solve the case right away.

"Tell me what you've got so far," he said, folding his hands over Sherlock's. Sherlock's mouth twitched up at the corners and he took a deep breath.

"Well, obviously whoever took them doesn't have the family they took. And all the people they took had only one family member left, plus they were all really close to said family. And the kidnapper was abused as a child." John was confused with the last part, just because they didn't have family didn't mean they were abused.

Then he understood, and pursed his lips in thought. "Stop that," Sherlock complained. John rose a brow at him in confusion. Sherlock rolled his eyes and bent over the table, connecting their lips for a brief moment, "Quit," he said. And John understood. He smiled, so he did distract the detective, and a lot apparently.

But Sherlock himself was distracting, those curls, those lips and that mouth in general, yum. And his eyes which were currently blue, it was all breath taking. Plus, his figure. He was really skinny, but had the best ass John had seen. And it was weird, because he was a man…

Sherlock caught him staring and winked. Oh, that went straight to John's groin. He didn't even know why, but he wanted Sherlock right there, over the table. He told himself to stop thinking about it, but how could he? And then Aveen called him, "Dad!"

"Yes, dear," he said as he sat beside her on the couch.

"What is he doing?" she pointed to the screen where the man was changing.

"He's regenerating," John explained.

"That's so stupid. Why does he have to change his face? He should be dead, by the way," she huffed. But when he changed and she saw his new form, her eyed widened. She was almost drooling and John knew why. The David Tennant Doctor was always attractive. He was one of John's favorites.

He simply laughed as she continued to stare, and he got up, but Sherlock was pushing him back down to the couch. He smiled down on his doctor and sat upon his lap. "John," he mumbled against his neck.

John sighed, "Yes," he asked.

"You're distracting," he complained and whispered some very, _very_ naughty things in John's ear. John was blushing in both places when Sherlock moved and placed little kisses along John's jaw.

"And just how do you propose we do any of those things?" he looked to Aveen, who was staring at the telly and Sherlock's lips ghosted over his ear.

"Like we do any other time. Disappear," he nibbled at John's earlobe and he could feel John getting harder. Then he thought about Aveen, "She won't know any different," he assured the soldier writhing under him.

"I'm not so sure about that," he said as he looked back to Sherlock who was grinning.

"I am. I'm also sure I want your hands all over me, " he whispered and John shivered, bringing his hands to Sherlock's hips."Besides, there's Mrs. Hudson," he said.

"Sherlock," he warned. But the detective shrugged. John sighed, he really wanted this, but Aveen would either notice they left, or she would hear things she shouldn't.

"John, if you're worried about my noises, you should hear yourself when you're under me," he teased and planted kisses all over John's face. He blushed, and Sherlock kissed him deeply and briefly. "Come on. Like I said, she won't know any different," he said.

John took one last look to Aveen, and looked at Sherlock with his pupils blown wider than he remembered. He sighed, "Maybe we should just take the shower. It'd make it easier," he explained and Sherlock knew what he was talking about.

Sherlock jumped from John and took him back the hallway. They both needed this, and Sherlock needed to clear his head. He couldn't stop thinking about John and this was, he figured, the only to get himself to stop…

* * *

"Don't you dare take that tone with me! That is, if you want to live," he grinned and laughed when she shut up and sat back down. He was at the head of the table, and they were all silent as he explained why they were here and what he was going to do with and to them

Tracy mumbled under her breath that this man was a fucking psychopath and Derek caught that. "I don't know," he whispered to her. "I kind of understand where he's coming from," he said as she eyed Derek.

Derek, Tim, Adam, Tracy and Scarlet all sat at the table with this man they had no relation to, they didn't know who he was, and they still hated him. He showed only a sliver of the evil side that had brought them here, but they were sure he was hiding the rest of it somewhere.

Scarlet was shaking in fear as he gestured for her to speak up as the rest of the group had seemed to do when Tracy brought up his insanity. But she shook her head, not saying a thing…

* * *

"Oh, that is interesting. And I assume that Sherlock hasn't fund much yet?" Mycroft asked over the phone.

"No, not much more than we did. But I'm sure he's on it now," Gregory assured his lover on the phone to his ear.

"As am I, he would never leave a case like this rest. Would you like my help as well," he offered. He never offered to help, this was new.

But, "No, it's fine. Sherlock and I have it," he assured the MI6 man once again.

* * *

Sherlock was working, just not on a case at the moment. He was far too busy with John having his hands on him as he was trying not to moan…

* * *

**So yeah, I needed a new villain... What do you think so far? Reviews...?**


	15. Chapter 15

Fifteen: Quite A While Down The Road

This day was finally here as Mary was in this hospital bed and Eve was holding her hand, telling her to relax as she was panting, in overly practiced breaths. "I love you, baby. Come on," and the doctor ordered her to push.

She screamed in agony as she obeyed and she regretted this at the moment…

o0o

"Oh! Look Mary, I told you," Eve said as her baby boy was handed to her and he was looking at her in curiosity, it seemed. "He's adorable," as she kissed Mary's sweaty forehead. But she didn't care that Mary had been sweating, she loved her either way.

"I know," Mary whispered as she placed a kiss to Ivan's forehead as well. Eve stroked his cheek as she made Mary look to her.

"I love you," she assured the blond.

"I love you, too," she said and Eve bent to kiss her. But then she got an idea and Mary scooted over as Eve climbed in bed with her. Now she did kiss Mary, fully and it was slow as Ivan giggled.

Mary chuckled as their lips separated and they looked to Ivan, then each other and smiled. The doctor walked in and was confused as to why Eve was in Mary's bed, but he shook it off, telling her the usual stuff.

Like how long she had to stay here before she could take the baby home as well as herself. Eve stayed because she had nothing else to do, and Mary had leave for three more weeks, which gave them two together with the baby and they were excited.

But suddenly Eve said she had something she had to do. Mary questioned, but all she would say was that Mary would love it when she came back. Mary accepted that answer as she held her son in her arms. She rocked him lightly as he was mouthing at her gown.

She laughed lightly as she knew what he wanted…

* * *

John's palms were sweating as he listened to the people in the crowd and they were mostly talking about how adorable Aveen was. Especially as she skipped down the dirt path and rose petals were spread about in the grass as well as the dirt.

Both John and Sherlock only smiled as they linked arms and Sherlock lead him down the path. John looked about them and saw that they had definitely chosen the perfect place for an outdoor wedding. There were flowers and a field was behind them.

Aveen was grinning as the nine year old saw them approach the little gazebo. It was quite small, but it was beautiful, and so was Sherlock in that suit. With half his hair slicked back and that smile plastered to his face.

John was going to wipe that off later and replace it… never mind. That was for later. But Sherlock was eying John as well, and he had to say, the suit accented a lot, and it was sexy… and then there was the words they had to deal with before they could say their own.

Their vows, God, John knew how to make someone cry. And Sherlock was right there behind him, and I'm pretty sure the crowd was balling. But Aveen was just smirking as they finished and more boring words filled the air.

Sherlock wasn't even listening as he was staring into those beautiful blue eyes. The only words he heard were, "You may kiss the groom," and kiss he did. It was slow and elegant, but tongue was added as well. This kiss was one to be savoured, and John loved it as his tongue tangled into Sherlock's and they finally pulled apart and let the sound consume them.

Everyone was clapping, cheering an whistling, even. They couldn't help the blush that creeped over their faces as everyone left their chairs and regrouped at the other tables outside that Mrs. Hudson had helped John organize.

He was glad she had helped now, this was brilliant and he couldn't help but feel he owed her. And that was when John noticed, when Sherlock sat down and he heard that jingle. He thought Sherlock had stopped wearing them.

"Wha-!?" Sherlock was confused as John dug into his shirt, loosening his tie and everything. He brought out his dog tags and smiled.

"I thought you weren't wearing these anymore?" he questioned as he smirked up at Sherlock sitting beside him.

"Well," he tried to come up with an explanation, but he simply shoved them back down his shirt and fixed the buttons and things as everyone laughed. But John thought it was adorable and told Sherlock so before he kissed him again.

Everyone else broke out in, "AAAAWWW!" and they blushed harder. John was a scarlet as Aveen sat in his lap.

"This is awesome!" she cheered as she kissed John on the cheek and Sherlock was next as she tackled him and he fell out of his chair and was laughing when she kissed both his cheeks. "I love you, Daddy!" she said, knowing it would sound cute to everyone else. And she was right as they all laughed and most did the "Aw!" thing again.

John just laughed, pulling Sherlock back to his chair as the toasts began and it fell silent. A lot of people had something pretty to say and it almost had John crying, but he held fast as Sherlock rolled his eyes.

John laughed and then the music started and his ears perked up as he recognized that tune. It wasn't very wedding-like, but John knew why it was playing and he smiled as he took Sherlock's hand. "Lead me, I have no idea what I'm doing," he ordered and Sherlock grinned, leading John in a dance to a very strangely romantic song.

"Not like I haven't heard that before," he smirked and grabbed John's waist with one hand, and John's hand in his other.

"Sh, down boy," he swatted at Sherlock's arse and Sherlock smiled, bending and kissing John on the cheek.

_Despite the lies that you're making, your love is mine for the taking… _Yes, very strange song to dance to, indeed. But no one seemed to care as they watched Sherlock and John unfold into dance in the grass and flowers.

This day was completely perfect, and nothing would change that. John was happy and Sherlock was finally content with life, and Aveen? She was happier than everyone else but the grooms of course, and it was fantastic…

* * *

"Eve," Mary was delighted when she appeared again, "what have you been up to?" noticing the smallest of bags in Eve's hand.

"Nothing, just um," she sat beside Mary again in the chair as she dug to the bottom of the bag and looking Mary in the eye, brought the little blue box. "I figured I should do this, since I've been wanting to."

And she opened the box, "Mary Morstan, I wish that you would take my hand in marriage, and stay with me for all of eternity?" and she revealed a beautiful small gold band that had one diamond sticking out from it, as well as two on either side.

"I…" Mary was breathless as even Ivan had stopped and stared at the jewels. What Eve was asking, she meant. For all of eternity, as Vampires live for a far longer time than humans. It wasn't really eternity, but it would feel like it.

Mary swallowed as Eve started to get nervous and impatient. "Mary?" she almost had tears.

"I…" she didn't know what to say. Last time someone had asked her to marry them, they dumped her for another man. So what was she supposed to say? You know what? Fuck it, Mary loves this woman to pieces and vice versa. If she leaves her, there will be hell to pay.

And, "Yes, I will," she agreed and Eve finally smiled and placed the ring on her finger before climbing into bed with her again.

"Can I sleep her tonight?" Eve asked, as she didn't want to be alone tonight, or have her back aching from leaning over Mary's stomach.

"Of course," Mary assured her and sealed it with a kiss…

* * *

Sherlock was determined to make John cum his brains out tonight, as Aveen was staying with Mrs. Hudson in her flat and she assured them Aveen wouldn't hear a thing. They trusted her, too, so they headed straight to their bedroom.

And by the way, just because they were married, doesn't mean they want to leave the flat. It was a nice place and John would hate to see Mrs. Hudson get upset because they left. So they decided they would stay here.

Anyway, Sherlock drug John to their room and slammed the door with John pushed into it. "Sherlock," he panted as Sherlock was already on John's suit. "Slow down, Jesus," he breathed and Sherlock chuckled.

"I don't want to," he complained as John stared at him, and his eyes went wider when Sherlock started talking dirty to him. "I want to rip your clothes off and watch them scatter and fill the floor as your cock fills my hand. And I want to tease you as I sink to my knees and," John stopped him with wild kisses.

They fell onto the bed as Sherlock was on John's clothes once more. John then started talking to Sherlock, telling him that he wants to, "Tease you with my tongue and teeth until you beg for me to fuck you. I want my fingers to bring you so close that when I finally push myself into you, you scream my name and beg me to fuck you harder and faster…" he nipped at Sherlock's ear as he felt fangs on his neck. Oh yes.

Sherlock wanted to bite, but held off as he simply teased John with his teeth. He ripped John's clothes from him and noticed that with each things that floated to the floor, his followed and he loved the way their suits decorated the floor and not them anymore. All that was left was their pants, and John was palming Sherlock through said pants.

Sherlock was whimpering as he really wanted to bite, but he couldn't, not just yet. He would wait, until John was close… and right now, they were nowhere near close enough. They were heavily aroused, yes, but they were ready for so much more than just this.

John slipped Sherlock's pants from his hips as he sunk to his knees on the floor as Sherlock was sitting on the edge of the bed still. He watched John with wide eyes as he teased and Sherlock let moans escape his lips as he was shaking in anticipation of what John would do to him.

He was nipping and left a love mark before his mouth softened to kisses along Sherlock's thighs and Sherlock opened his eyes for a brief moment, only see John engulf half of him and he clamped the shut again as a moan erupted from his chest and turned to growl. His hands were groping at John's hair as pulled and John was only encouraged to take Sherlock deeper.

Sherlock whimpered as he could feel himself at the back of John's throat and he wanted to return the favor so badly. John saw this as he pulled off and kissed Sherlock's head and sat about his lap. "Sherlock," he whispered to his lover as he was panting in his ear.

"John?" he asked as he reached to touch John's cock, but John smack his hands away.

"You like my dog tags? I'll treat you like a proper soldier," he purred. And suddenly the captain voice found his own and he ordered, "On your knees, soldier," he stood and Sherlock automatically snapped on was on his knees before he knew he was following orders. He wanted this to happen anyway.

Sherlock teased and hummed in approval when John's fingers were carded through his curls and pushed him closer. But Sherlock nipped and with those fangs... they were only making it worse and John wanted that pretty mouth on him, now!

Sherlock finally took John's head and sucked lightly and gently, so he didn't cut John. He had only done this thrice before, despite what he liked to do to John. Usually John took control and did whatever he wanted to Sherlock.

And tonight was only slightly different as Sherlock knew the even though John had control, he would be the one to be taking advantage of John. Besides, it's been a while since John had a good fucking. He needed to learn how it feels once more.

So even though, he was on his knees, he knew what was going to happen and he smirked at it as he took John as deep as possible. Which actually, was pretty deep, considering how big John was. But Sherlock always loved that John was bigger than average. It gave him more pleasure thinking that people would be jealous if they knew.

Only if they knew. But they never will, not if Sherlock had anything to say about it. And right now, he had nothing to say as he deep throated his husband, and hummed against his cock, making him shiver and let out a moan.

Sherlock was pleased as he swallowed, encouraging John to come closer to the edge. But he stayed where he was as the games Sherlock loved to play were pleasureful, yet he wanted more. And when Sherlock pulled off and nipped at him in every place, he looked down at the man on his knees.

He smiled and stroked his fingers through those curls as Sherlock bit down and this was new. His fangs sunk into John's thigh as the blood tried to escape, but only hit Sherlock's tongue and he moaned. John twitched at that deep moan that said that Sherlock was enjoying this.

But he almost collapsed as Sherlock was there and John's hands went to his shoulders, holding the soldier on his feet. But as Sherlock licked up the last of the amount of blood he desired, he scooped John from his feet and soon he was straddling Sherlock on their bed before he knew any better.

Sherlock's hand was filled with John's member as he purred in John's ear, "You look so cute when I tease you," he licked at his ear and his neck before he heard a growl in his own ear.

"Shut up, Sherlock," and he pushed the Vampire to the pillows and bent over him, leaving temporary marks and settled on the base of Sherlock's neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave a bruise for sure. Sherlock moaned as his hips bucked from the covers and their cocks rubbed together and it was sensational as they both moaned.

Sherlock grabbed both of them in his hand, and John brought his own over Sherlock's threading their fingers together as they both pumped a few times and Sherlock's fingers ended in John's mouth. He kissed his fingertips before licking and sucking and soon his own fingers were digging through the drawer of the night stand.

He had the lube in hand, but Sherlock snatched it, "I don't think so," he said as he popped the cap. John whined when Sherlock took it, but he twitched when he heard the cap open and the sight of Sherlock's fingers being wet with his saliva and the lube made him want more. The more he hadn't had in so long.

Sherlock could tell he wanted it as one of his hands gripped John's hips and the other teased his entrance. John relaxed almost immediately, but Sherlock still teased John as his fingers were inside him. He chuckled when he heard John try to control his breathing and he swore when Sherlock hit that spot and the swear was followed by a moan.

John ripped Sherlock's head back by his curls and kissed all over his throat, and left another mark on the side he hadn't occupied tonight. He was pleased that this would heal in the next day, and he could whatever kind of mark he wished.

He bit down on Sherlock's neck, leaving a bruise definitely and Sherlock gasped. That actually felt really good on the other side. But John never drew blood because one, he would never, and two, he literally couldn't if he wanted to. Sherlock's skin was too thick for that, and he loved it.

He licked at the mark as Sherlock brushed over his prostate once more and he yelped which was followed by a drawn out moan when Sherlock had inserted a third finger, but pulled all of them out just as quickly as he had put the last one in.

John whined and was about to beg, when Sherlock paused and made John look him in the eye, "John," he soothed. John grunted as he loved Sherlock's voice during sex, it was always so low and sexy. "I love you," he place his palm to John's cheek and John leaned into that touch.

But he also leaned into Sherlock's cock pressing at his entrance. "I love you, too," he breathed and Sherlock rubbed against him and he gave up, "please…." And he mumbled something that sounded like Sherlock's name.

That pushed Sherlock further as he pushed his head in and John moaned lightly in the finality of this action. The hand on John's hip left and gripped his cock as he thrust slowly into the doctor who had his palms pressed so hard to Sherlock's chest he almost couldn't breathe. But he managed as he was seated into John completely and it was intoxicating how tight he was.

John's lips met Sherlock's and their tongues tangled together as they moaned against one another and John squirmed as Sherlock was almost pulled out. But the combination of John's movements and Sherlock's own made them crash together and a scream was put to John's breath.

That hit him, "Right there, Sherlock please, more…" and Sherlock obliged, thrusting faster, not any harder and, only a little faster. Each time, he hit that spot and John almost screamed each time, but he settled on moans. Sherlock's name was put to his breath many times as the favor was returned and John couldn't help getting closer with each time he heard Sherlock's voice saying his name like that.

John ran his tongue across Sherlock' lips and in turn, his felt the fangs that were still there, and he loved the feel of them on his skin, but this, this made them much more pleasureful. Sherlock caught onto this and nipped at John's tongue as he thrust up faster, "Ah! Sherlock!"

"Mmm, John," he purred and moaned at the same time. John decided he hadn't been on Sherlock like this in a long time, which means he hasn't played with Sherlock in this position in a while.

So his teeth nipped as he drifted down to Sherlock's chest and teased his nipples with licks and nips and when Sherlock hit his prostate again, he bit down and Sherlock screamed. John's teeth and him clenching around his cock was too much for him not to cry out.

He could finally feel himself getting closer and John knew he was, as his grip had faltered on his cock and now he was holding fast, and timing his thrusts with pumps and John was dripping as they both felt that wonderfully painful sensation build up.

John tightened around Sherlock as he spilled out over their chests, and Sherlock filled the soldier with himself, pleased that John came with the loudest of moans that had his name attached. But once he felt that hot sensation, he tightened and came himself, he screamed John's name as loud as he dared.

John was left panting and he was blinking his vision back when Sherlock was saying something to him. He shook his head, and tried to listen, "John," Sherlock chuckled. "Can you hear me?" he asked as he stroked John's hair from his eyes and over his forehead.

"I…" he was shaking as he pulled off of Sherlock and couldn't move as his body landed on the covers. He swallowed, and Sherlock just kept laughing. But John found that stored energy and pinned Sherlock down, kissing him until he shut the hell up.

Sherlock accepted the kisses with a grin and John wiped that off his face with a deep kiss and he could feel the fangs ascending and he almost whimpered at their loss, but he was pleased as Sherlock had stopped laughing.

He fingered his dog tags on Sherlock's chest, "I love you," he finally said. Sherlock pushed him to the sheets, "I know, I love me. too," he joked and John swatted at his arse. "I know, I love you more," he smirked and John's tags hit his chest as Sherlock lowered himself for a kiss.

But John pulled him down and cuddled into Sherlock's neck, where the love marks were already disappearing, but that bruise would take a lot longer. He kissed at all the marks he left and no matter how many times Sherlock told him they would heal, he didn't care.

Actually, he did, just not that Sherlock told him not to. He cared that he left such a mark on Sherlock's perfect skin. "John, how many times do I have to tell you, it doesn't matter?" Sherlock asked as he settled on John, cuddling into his chest.

"As many times as it takes for not to love you and care that I hurt you," he said.

"You didn't," Sherlock said bluntly. John flattened his lips at this and simply stared into those eyes he loved so much.

"We need to clean up, both ourselves and the room," John explained and Sherlock grumbled in complaint but eventually he left the bed and helped. Soon, they were under the spray of the shower, and Sherlock was teasing, shifting his weight in a way that made his body irresistible.

"John," he purred as he took John's hands in his own. John rose a brow at his husband. But Sherlock continued, "Press me against the wall," and he didn't even have to finish before Sherlock did as he was asked, but Sherlock was on his back as John was on his knees.

This wasn't exactly what Sherlock had in mind, but um, okay. And John was mumbling something he strained to listen to, "I took advantage of you, now it's your turn," he explained as he relaxed and Sherlock's cock was down his throat and he realized what John wanted him to do.

He didn't really want to hurt John, but if he was willing to let Sherlock do this, he would take advantage. He cupped John's cheek and tried his best not to just pound into John's throat right then and there as John moved with him, knowing Sherlock couldn't just take full advantage.

He swallowed, encouraging the precum to drip and when it did, he was pleased and he hummed to show so. Sherlock let out a strangled moan as John's name was there, too. John gripped Sherlock's bollocks lightly and coaxed Sherlock to cum for him.

Sherlock's hands gripped John's shoulders as he couldn't hold on much longer with John swallowing like that. He ripped through another orgasm and he fell to his own knees. John swallowed all he was given as he gripped Sherlock's shoulders, bringing him closer.

The water made it hard for Sherlock to breath as he panted out breaths and John just mumbled those three words over and over in his ear and he finally calmed, smiling that John could still make him feel that good. And he then grinned at the fact that he had done the same to John.

He had literally made John speechless, and now John had done the same to him. It was fantastic. Sherlock whispered his three favourite words in John's ear as they both stood once more. John's fingers had mercy as he scrubbed shampoo into Sherlock's scalp and he smiled…

* * *

"Eve, how much did this cost?" she asked as Eve settled beside her and she eyed the ring.

"Not as much as my love for you does, it's fine," she assured her and Mary blushed as well as eyed Eve. She wasn't sure exactly what this ring costs, but it had to be expensive, as it was beautiful. "Besides, it only reflects a fraction of the beauty of the finger it is placed about," Eve smiled and Mary kissed her, being careful of Ivan, of course.

Mary did know Eve could be poetic, but she still loved it each time she said something like that. it was always impressive and always a compliment. Eve grinned as she kept staring at the woman she couldn't rip her eyed from. Those lovely green and vibrant eyes all the way down to the baby she had in her arms.

Ivan was a part of her and he was just as adorable as she was, and Eve adored both of them. What choice did she have but to love every part of Mary? And that included Ivan. But as she settled in the bed, Mary noticed they were all tired and Eve had placed Ivan in the doctor's hands as he had come back in.

But after Ivan was gone for the night, Eve snuggled into Mary's chest and they fell asleep, both exhausted from the day's events…

* * *

"John," Sherlock asked when they settled in their bed once again. John hummed against Sherlock's chest as he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, but he was still awake. "Do you think anyone heard us?" he asked.

John chuckled, "Honestly, I hope not. But if they did, then at least they know I'm yours…" he said as he couldn't hold his presence anymore, and he drifted off into a deep sleep.

Sherlock smiled as he stroked John's blond hair, "Of course you are, as I am yours, love," and he kissed John's forehead, falling asleep under his favourite blond…

o0o

That very next morning they woke to having Aveen on the bed, in between their legs, jumping up and down and yelling at them to, "Get up!" John woke in a hurry and snatched her from the foot of the bed.

"Would you quiet down?" he asked, but smiled and Sherlock just rolled over, pulling the sheets with him.

He let go and she slinked to the doorway, "Please get up? I want to go to school, I'm bored," she complained. John looked at the clock and sighed. They all had to get up, as John has work and he was sure Sherlock would have a case before the day's out.

Which reminds me, the one I left a cliffhanger. Would you like to know how it ended? It was quite interesting. But oh, look at the time, there isn't enough. I guess you'll just have to wait. Chao!

* * *

**Mwahahaha! Now you have to wait until the next update to know what happened... But do please leave reviews.**


	16. Chapter 16

Sixteen: A Flash Of The Past

So, as I said, you now get to know what happened with the case of the five missing people… Sherlock was sitting on the couch with his fingers steepled under his chin and John wondered if he had anything new. Aveen was sitting beside him with wet hair, as it was around her bedtime. As a matter of fact, it was all their bedtimes...

"Aveen, come on," he ushered her upstairs and to her room as she smiled. She loved it when Sherlock was thinking, it meant she would hear something about results soon. And she loved listening to how he had deduced who had done what.

But she settled in bed and John tucked her in, and she tried to sleep. As John closed the door and was down the stairs again, she did eventually doze off. "Sherlock," John tried. Sherlock hummed in response, "come to bed, even if you can't stop thinking about that stupid case," he said.

"Yeah," he sighed and followed John to their room where John had fallen asleep, but Sherlock was up a good while after. He couldn't sleep, as John was right, and he couldn't stop thinking about the case. But he cuddled into John, as it did actually help a little to think.

He temporarily decided he didn't need sleep, as after all, he only needed human things sometimes, and sleep was a human need. But he laid there, thinking of all the locations the kidnapper could have taken them, and then an idea made a light bulb go off in his head.

He had heightened senses, yes? Absolutely, so why is he thinking about it, when he could be literally be sniffing out the villain? He didn't know, and he glanced at the clock, deciding he had enough time to get at least three hours of sleep in.

Only when he closed his eyes and listened to the shallow breathing of his fiancé did he realize how tired he really was. And he fell into a deep sleep easily…

o0o

John woke first this time, to Sherlock snoring lightly above his head and he chuckled, kissing the underside of his jaw. And then an idea rushed to meet his brain, and he smirked as he rolled on top of Sherlock. He sat up and straddled him lightly.

He placed kisses all over Sherlock's face and part of his neck as Sherlock groaned. Was he still dreaming? No, he could feel John on his hips and his lips, and the smell of John himself was overwhelming as he opened his eyes. "John," he sighed.

John let out a manly giggle as he kissed Sherlock's lips and hummed. They separated loudly as John said, "We need to get up. Plus, you have a case to finish, mister," he scolded lightly.

Sherlock pouted, "I don't want to get up. Besides, I already figured out where the kidnapper is," not really, but if he swung it right, he will within at least two hours.

"Oh?" John said, placing a kiss to Sherlock's fingers and pulling him from bed.

"Well, we need to go to the Yard briefly but yes, I'll be able to find them afterwards. I have a theory I want to test as well," he explained and John mumbled an, 'Uh-huh' and led him to the kitchen where Aveen also was walking into, grabbing her favourite cereal and settling at the table.

John grabbed the milk after she was done with it and made coffee and the milk was finally in the fridge. But not before he gave up and chugged a bit of it, straight from the jug. Aveen smirked, as she does the same all the time.

It didn't really matter anymore, as Sherlock and John exchange germs all the friggin' time and Aveen was their daughter. Yup, definitely a family. Very fucked up, but still a family. John smiled as he handed Sherlock coffee and he sat at the table and the sound of muffled crunching filled the silence.

"Did the big bad detective find the kidnapped people yet?" Aveen ask before her voice was shut off by more crunching.

"Slightly," he admitted and she smiled, knowing she'd get to hear the rest later. "As a matter of fact, we need to go. I want to solve this before dinner. I plan on eating tonight, and I want it to be with everyone," he explained as he looked to the watch on his wrist that he hadn't worn in a while.

"You're going to eat dinner?" John scoffed. Sherlock nodded and John then asked, "with 'everyone' as in us as a family?"

"If that's what you call this little group of ours, yes," Sherlock admitted as John smiled in amazement. Aveen just finished her cereal in silence and almost laughed at John's surprise. But she contained herself, as she didn't want to choke and when she dumped her bowl in the sink, she hugged Sherlock's slumped shoulders.

"I knew you would find them," she beamed and John smiled wider. The sight of Sherlock leaning into her small arms and even kissing her forearm was adorable.

"Thanks for the confidence, but I haven't found them just yet," he chuckled and she let go. "We should get dressed," he gestured to all three of them, as Aveen was still in her night gown, and the men were still in their robes. Sherlock wasn't even wearing trousers.

But they all left to their rooms as they dressed hurriedly. "You plan on taking Aveen?" John asked.

"Yes," Sherlock said as he pulled his shirt over his shoulders. "If anyone can relate to a nine year old, she can. Plus, you know how much she loves the cases." Sherlock finished with his shirt and tucked it in his trousers.

"Almost as much as you do," John chuckled as his trousers were buttoned over his flannel. John smirked when Sherlock had left one button more than usual open again. John could have sworn he did it on purpose, but he buttoned it for him anyway.

As they slipped on their shoes and walked to the kitchen, Aveen was humming. Sherlock dismissed the tune as John recognized it, and great. Now that song is stuck in his head. Fantastic, he thought as they descended the stairs with Aveen bounced merrily before them.

John loved that he was the only one who didn't think this was more fun than sitting in flat with family. Aveen was adorable when she was excited and Sherlock was sexy when he was thinking. It made John seem so ordinarily human compared to them, but he knew he definitely was not ordinary.

Sherlock hailed a cab as John grabbed Aveen's hand. She was too close to the curb for his liking. She gladly curled her small fingers around his hand and smiled…

o0o

The Yard was especially quiet today. Even as Sherlock sought out Lestrade's office, they paid no attention to Sherlock, his daughter, and his fiancé. "Lestrade, I need to talk to one of the family members of the kidnapped," he demanded.

"Which one?" Gregory asked, looking from the monitor to Sherlock.

"Anyone will do, but preferably the soldier," he said. John knew why he liked soldiers. And I swear, Sherlock has a military kink. Especially with the way John can order him around and he just obeys, it's quite sexy as well. Anyway…

Lestrade pulled out his mobile and typed a text to someone, and not soon enough after, the short haired ginger was walking through the door of Lestrade's office. "Yes?" she asked as she looked to Sherlock. "Ah, Mr. Holmes, nice to see you again," she smiled sadly as she took his hand and he shook once. "I'm guessing you have questions to ask me? Again?" she asked.

Sherlock nodded as he told the rest of them to stay here as she was lead from the room and somewhere 'private', but not exactly. It was just outside of Lestrade's office and it was so John couldn't see what he was about to do. he didn't want to, but he was sure that he would have to.

"It was your father that went missing, right?" he asked and she nodded, wondering what this man could have in mind. "Okay, this may be awkward, but it needs to be done, and don't take it personally, yeah?"

She nodded again in confusion as he stepped closer, taking in her scent. But he need more than just that. "What?!" and she couldn't get anymore out before he grabbed her by the back of her head and crushed their lips together.

That wasn't enough, either. Dammit! His tongue slipped through her mouth and tasted her. Okay, that should work, then. Smell if a part of taste, so yeah. And this bothered him none as she pulled away. "What the hell was that?!" she yelled at him.

"I needed your scent, I can find the kidnapped people now. Thank you," he nodded. And something in her eyes flashed and her lips were on his again. This one surprised him, though. His brows lifted as she separated again and said it was her pleasure to help.

"Right, now go find my father you git," and he was shoved back in Lestrade's office. Sherlock nodded which was followed by a shake of his head. She disappeared and Sherlock stored the scent and taste of her so he could use it to pinpoint their location.

"Sherlock, what did you do?" John noticed that his cheeks were just a hint of pink, and he better not have… "You kissed her, didn't you?" he asked instead. he knew that was the kind of pink that appears no matter what when someone kisses you.

Sherlock didn't answer at the moment and Gregory was confused as Aveen and John were pulled out of his office and out to the streets in front of the building. John's anger built with every step as he gripped Sherlock's hand tighter.

Sherlock finally answered saying, "Don't be jealous, she doesn't taste as good as you do. But I needed to, yes," he admitted.

"You sodding arse! What is wrong with you?!" he let go of Sherlock's hand and his anger made his body slightly writhe as he face Sherlock. Aveen just stood, waiting for Sherlock to get the punch to the face he deserved.

"Did you not hear a word I just said!?" Sherlock asked, irritated. "I had to! I needed her scent, and it wasn't enough so I needed more! Now I can find her father with the rest of the kidnapped! God damn it, why don't you listen to me!?" he threw his hands in the air as John's anger didn't disappear, but it shrunk a little as he heard Sherlock yelling at him.

"Fine! We'll settle this later," he said as they climbed into the cab Sherlock had remembered he had called. John slammed the door as Aveen sat between the two idiots. She didn't understand why John was so pissed. It was just a kiss, and it was needed.

But Sherlock was also irritated as he managed to swallow it and focus on the case. He muttered an address that the cabbie barely caught as he had figured he could probably sniff them out from there. They sped off as Aveen leaned into John.

She knew it would calm him a little, and John simply petted her hair as he sighed. They shouldn't fight in front of her. she's probably seen enough of that already. He flattened his lips in concern at this and decided he would wait to 'talk' to Sherlock about boundaries…

o0o

When they stopped, John didn't recognize the place, but Sherlock did, and he liked it. But only because this is where he meets most of his homeless network. But he didn't speak to them as he sniffed the air. He took in huge gulps of it as he turned on his heels and John followed and Aveen was in between them still.

Sherlock didn't know how, but they were extremely close. He picked this spot out of random, and yet they were about six feet away. But how is that possible, there's only sidewalk and… Sherlock lifted the lid to the manhole and sniffed the air about him.

Yup, definitely there. John didn't want to go underground, but Sherlock jumped in before he could argue, and soon after Aveen and John followed. Brilliant, this is, John thought. The lid crashed closed as they were plunged into darkness.

Luckily, Sherlock and John had brought their torches and Sherlock can slightly see in the dark, so that was always a plus. But John's torch illuminated a lot as Sherlock's was a bit smaller. But combine that and you have brilliant light shining before them. Aveen was drug by her hand as John followed Sherlock and hearing him sniff the air was awkward.

But John guessed it worked as they turned the last corner and there was a door with a light under it. There was murmuring behind said door and Sherlock listened as he didn't even have to press his ear to the door.

"He's a nutter," she whispered.

"Yeah, how would you feel if you were being ordered around by your own head?" he contradicted. Sherlock thought this was interesting, as they thought this man could be crazy. But that was when he heard a louder voice.

"Why don't you two share your whispers with the rest of the group?" he asked, loud and they all shut up. And just before Sherlock was about to kick the door down, there were screams heard within the room.

Yup, that was good enough for him as he kicked at the lock. It gave with the first try and he heard it break off as the door hit the wall behind it. The light was enough that Sherlock and John didn't need their own as they were switched off and Aveen stood stock still, staring at the woman on the table.

There were the five of them, and the man who had taken them. Then who was that on the table? And why were they all cowering in fear because of her? Sherlock couldn't see anything wrong with her. She was just a woman in a dress, standing barefoot on the table.

What was so scary about that? And that was when he realized she was different. As her eyes were vacant and she flicked from the table to the floor beside the man who was trembling so hard he almost fell out of his chair.

She smiled as she whispered something in his ear and he fainted. Sherlock laughed lightly as he realized what she was. They were scared of something that could only insert thoughts into your head, that was about it. Oh, and wave her hand in front of your face and say, "Boo!" Although, that was only when she was in this form, but still.

Sherlock laughed as John was confused. He was a bit scared as well when she had disappeared from the table top and on the floor beside the man. John rushed to him when he fainted and he was fine, just scared out of his wits. And then she was behind John, whispering things in his ear and he shivered as suddenly there was someone else behind him.

Sherlock had stopped laughing as his eyes went wide with the man who had his hand on John's shoulder, "Don't bother with taking them," he sneered and John looked to this maniac.

"And why not?" Sherlock asked for the both of them.

"Because," he pulled out a gun from his trousers, "you die if you take my family," and he was deranged for sure.

"What makes them your family?" Sherlock gestured to the four others who had huddled together in fear.

"Because I said so, and so did Maggie," he pointed to the cackling woman behind him. Oh, his, hm, sister? Yes, as she was just standing there. His wife would have reached out for his shoulder, this was his 'dead' sister.

Or so he thought she was dead. She really wasn't, but she might as well be. "And how did Maggie die?" Sherlock asked as the gun was pointed to the tall brunette's chest, a little ways away from his heart.

"Like this," and he shot, letting the bullet fly. Sherlock fell back and John lashed out, grabbing the man by his hand, but he still pulled the trigger a second time and this bullet landed in John's thigh as he screamed and disabled the man as best he could.

No, not here, not now. John knew he wouldn't be hurt, but these people may think he's crazy like the man and Maggie, if he heals here. But he had no choice as he collapsed with the man beside him that had passed out from the blow to his head John had landed.

Oh God, it glowed pink as John remembered Sherlock and Aveen was already on him, making him stay awake. John pulled out his mobile and tried to phone someone, but no dice, as there was no signal. "Fucking, fuck you!" he screamed at his phone.

He shoved in his pocket again as he crawled to Sherlock. The pink was burning into a red as he could already feel the head ache coming along with it. Shit! Aveen was staring at John's leg as the bullet fell to the floor.

Her mouth was open and in what seemed to be a smile as she recognized the magic that was healing him. She knew what that was. But she couldn't say a thing as she smacked at Sherlock's face. "Stay awake, you good for nothing git!" she yelled and his vision was fading as she did it again.

"Fuck!" John yelled as he knew this was a bad idea, but he needed to get Sherlock to a hospital and this wouldn't do. as the red faded back to pink, he lifted the man in his arms and carried him through the doorway, telling the five (the man had woken up in all the excitement) to follow him if they wanted out.

He left the crazy arse on the floor passed out and hoped he bled out for this. John fought the burning head ache as he reached the darkness. Aveen dug in his pocket and brought out his torch and flicked it on, knowing John would be struggling already with the pain and carrying his lover.

The rest of the group followed as they had no idea what else to do. They also had no idea what was going on as John's leg was glowing a faint pink and Aveen was smirking as they lifted the lid and John pushed Sherlock out first.

The motion kept him awake, but just barely as he was shoved out back into the daylight. "John," he croaked and John told him to shush as the head ache was catching up.

Why did it have to be now that this happens? Why can't John just be completely normal? No, he has to look like a fucking Martian as he glows red/pink, which is now fading by the way, and he heals. Everyone else filed out as they tried to help John keep Sherlock awake and alive.

Someone had dialed for an ambulance and for that John was glad as Sherlock was fading in and out. But John couldn't help it anymore as his own pain made him scream and clutch his temples. Aveen rubbed his back and looked over Sherlock as there was an emergency vehicle rushing for them.

But the sirens only made John's head ache worse and he was getting angry that they wouldn't shut it off. But he knew they had to keep them on as they took Sherlock onto a gurney and wheeled him in as Aveen followed.

But not before she said to the group of five, "I suggest you go off to your family," and she sat beside John who had the worst of migraines.

"Is he alright?" one of them asked as they tended to Sherlock as best they could.

"Yeah," he managed as it was starting to fade, very slowly. "I'm," he exhaled deeply, "I'm fine, just a huge head ache," he admitted. They offered him some pain killers, but he declined, knowing that wouldn't stop whatever gave him that head ache every time he healed like that.

And Aveen whispered o him as he took Sherlock's hand, "I know what causes that," he gave her an exasperated look and she simply smiled. His head ache had turned down to just a throbbing and he could deal as they sped off to the closest hospital. He just held tighter to Sherlock's hand as his heartbeat was extremely slow…

o0o

The doctors were confused as Sherlock seemed to be stable, but his heartbeat was still too slow for him to possibly be awake and asking for John. Which he was and John ripped through the crowd of idiots when the doctor had said that Sherlock was asking for him.

Aveen followed, wanting to see her father, to make sure he hadn't died. Before he entered they warned him of Sherlock's condition, but John knew better and scoffed at them as he pushed the door open slowly.

"Sherlock," he exhaled in relief as he took a seat beside his bed. Aveen sat in his lap as she looked over the detective.

"John," he lifted a hand from the bed to try to stroke his cheek, but ended up grabbing John's and they both held fast. Sherlock then chuckled softly, "I heard them complaining about my unusual heartbeat. It was rather funny," he said and John smiled.

"It was, wasn't it? 'Oh my God, he should be dead asleep,'" he mocked the nurses. And they both laughed as Aveen grinned and slid from John's lap. And the door behind them opened to reveal a very tall Holmes brother with a certain DI attached to his side. Well, not literally, but you what I mean.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Hello brother," he greeted and John stood, simply staring from Sherlock to Mycroft and smiling.

"What shall we tell the doctors about your 'condition'?" he asked as he swung his umbrella once and Gregory stared. He had almost nothing to say as he examined Sherlock after Mycroft swinging that umbrella.

"I don't know, and I don't care. I want to go home now. I hate hospitals," he pouted and John smirked. Sherlock demanded too much already.

"Brother dear, you must stay for at least a night before they let you go anywhere," he pointed out and Gregory finally piped up.

"How the hell did this happen anyway?" he asked.

"He shot me," Sherlock said, "that's painfully obvious. And the kidnapped were freed. No idea where they went, though," he admitted as John took his chair again and ignored everything as he stared at Sherlock. John wasn't sure where the victims went, either.

"Bloody brilliant, we needed them for questioning," Gregory complained and Mycroft gave him a look that said for him to just shut up.

Besides, "They'll most likely return to their families, ask the five family members," Mycroft suggested. Gregory blushed lightly at how stupid he had been. And John simply rose Sherlock's hand to his lips and Mycroft decided, "I'll see you a bit later. John will sign you out tomorrow morning if you wish," he nodded and was gone.

Gregory stared a little longer, and eventually left behind his lover. Mycroft swung that umbrella over and over, round and round and it was hard for Gregory not to stare. But Sherlock sighed as Aveen simply curled up in the chair she had taken. She knew John wasn't going anywhere tonight, and neither was she…

* * *

Mary received a call in the middle of the day, and John was lucky it was lunch time for her. sSe figured it was probably late at night for him. But she answered, "Yes, dear?"

"Mary, um, I have a question," he said.

"Which would be?" she asked in return.

"How long do you think it would take Sherlock to heal from a bullet wound to the chest?" and she almost choked.

"What?" she managed.

"He got shot, and I don't know how long it would take for him to heal. Tell me?" he asked.

"Well, he is a Vamp, and he was a fast healer to begin with so about for to five days , why would it matter?" she asked.

"Like I said, he was shot, and I know he'll try to go back to cases as soon as possible. So I was just wondering how long I would have to deal with his whining about being bored," she heard a door close behind John and his footsteps.

"Oh," she said simply, expecting him to hang up now.

But instead he asked, "How are you?"

* * *

John could hear Mary pause at the fact that he had asked how she was. "You know with the baby and all," he added to help her give an answer.

"Well, I have a job, and Eve is still here, so I'm um. I'm good," she said, and he could hear the confusion in her voice. "Why would you care? Just curious," she asked.

"Because, despite what you think, I do have a sentimental level of care for you. I just…" he didn't know how to say it without hurting her, so he didn't. He simply left it hanging. But then he asked, "A job? Like, at a hospital?"

"Nope," she said and John was confused. "As a college professor," she explained. "Which reminds me, I should get back to that. It's almost time for another class. Talk with you later, hopefully," she added and hung up.

John was surprised that she was working as a professor, and he closed his phone and walked back into the room with Sherlock and Aveen. She had curled up into his side and John smiled, knowing Sherlock couldn't be comfortable like that.

And he took the chair as Sherlock stare at him, those blue green eyes boring into the very recesses of his soul. John rose a brow at this, but Sherlock patted the bed beside him, telling John to join him. "I don't want to-"

"Shut up and sleep with me," Sherlock smirked at how dirty that sounded, but John rolled his eyes and toes off his shoes, joining Sherlock in the bed…

* * *

The man woke to have Maggie sobbing over him. And when he woke, she looked to him, "Oh, brother," she said. "I thought you were dead," and she embraced him. Wait, she's solid? She's supposed to be dead, a ghost come back to haunt him.

"Maggie?" he asked as she held him tighter.

"I have something to tell you," she admitted.

"Damn right, you do!" he yelled and she flinched.

"I am a ghost, but not like humans always like to think," she admitted. "I had to stage my death so that you wouldn't question when I changed forms. Please, don't hate me," she begged and held even tighter.

He soothed her, "I don't hate you, and he picked up the gun from the ground. "But you will join me in Hell," and he put it to her temple and new tears of hers formed.

"No, please don't," she begged. But the bullet soared through her brain as the blood sprayed across the floor and a bit on the floor and the last little silver friend was left.

"Stupid," he insulted himself before raising the gun to his own temple and pulling the trigger for the last time, finalizing everything. He was finally rid of that stupid body and he was finally rid of the orphaned pain.

He was finally done, and Maggie was his to drag to Hell with him, as he knew that was where he was destined to go. And the bullet only made everything final…

* * *

John stirred and rubbed his face on Sherlock's chest as Aveen had pushed him. Sherlock chuckled, "John," he purred.

"Mmmnm," he snuggled closer, determined to stay asleep. Though, it was useless now. He gave up, peeking before he sat up slowly. Sherlock was looking to him and he smiled, kissing those beautiful lips. "Don't think I've forgotten," he said suddenly, referring to the incident outside of Lestrade's office as Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I know you haven't. But can you please get me out of here?" he begged and Aveen slipped from the bed and her shoes were on again as John did the same.

"Are you sure you feel up to walking?" John asked.

"I do. If I can escape this boring place, yes," he nodded and John shook his head, walking to the front desk to ask for the papers to sign Sherlock out.

At first she said he wasn't allowed, but he contradicted, "Okay, first of all, I am a doctor myself and second of all, do you really want Sherlock Holmes complaining about being bored?" he asked.

She gave up and handed him a clipboard and a pen and he sighed. He stood signing every stupid paper he had to. Sherlock would star complaining right about now to the nurse who had to check up on him in the morning. but as he wrote, Aveen said she knew about the magic. "I'm sorry?"

"I know what was healing you," she said as he leaned down for her to whisper, "it was in the poison," to him. And finally he understood. But as he made this realization, he continued signing the papers to the last dotted line. This could wait until they got home.

And afterwards was when he actually walked through the door of the room. Sherlock was whining about the nurse's cold hands and the male nurse was getting annoyed. "Sherlock, shut up," John said as he pushed the nurse aside. "I'll take care of the stupid git, go away," he waved his hand at the door.

Aveen piped up, "You heard him," and the nurse scoffed, leaving in a huff. It seemed as thought that whole family was annoying, he thought as he closed the door.

John disconnected everything as he pulled Sherlock from the bed and to the bathroom where he had a change of clothes for the idiot from Mycroft. Sherlock forced himself to stand while John stripped him and redressed him in a suit, like he always wears.

Aveen smiled as Sherlock convinced John he could walk and almost fell over anyway. John pulled Sherlock's arm over his shoulders and they made it out and John called a cab. One wouldn't take them and he chuckled a bit as the second one did.

"221B Baker Street, please," John said as he pulled Sherlock into his lap. Sherlock complained about being bored already, but John simply put a finger to his lips. "Shut up, don't you listen?" he asked.

Sherlock pouted and crossed his arms as best as he could, but it hurt too much still and he simply wrapped himself around John, refusing to move. John sighed heavily as he carried Sherlock up the stairs and to the couch. Now it was time to question Aveen about poison, and how she knew.

She said simply that it was a new type of potion that would knock you out for a little, and then later it would heal your wounds. It won't save you from dying, but it heals. And the head aches are a side effect that were never worked out. And how does she know?

She is a Wicken, after all, and they deal with a lot of magic. Even her mum helped her with a few spells. She never used them, of course, but she knew them...

* * *

Which brings me back to now, when Sherlock was poking at his scar under his robe and John was listening to Mary over the phone. She was excited as she announced that she had the baby. "Oh my God, really?!" John was practically vibrating as Sherlock could hear Mary on the other end.

John almost cried when he heard the name and that Eve had afterwards proposed. That was completely unexpected and John did cry. It was only one tear, but Sherlock rolled his eyes. Yes, he knew what Mary was saying and it was news, but not any he was interested in.

John hung up, finally and turned to Sherlock, grinning like an idiot. Aveen was like Sherlock was, she didn't much care, because Mary wasn't here with the baby herself. What did it matter if she was in America?

But John cared and he was shaking in excitement. "Yes, John, it's exciting, but don't get yourself all worked up," Sherlock said as he had that bored tone about his voice.

"You just love ruining moments, don't you?" he furrowed his brows at Sherlock.

"I didn't ruin our wedding, as much as it bored me," he admitted. And John just rolled his eyes and tackled Sherlock to the couch, giving him surprisingly fervour kisses. Sherlock accepted as Aveen faked a couch and Mrs. Hudson was in the doorway when they sat up…

* * *

**Couldn't help it, I had to write another... So, reviews? **


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: Hey guys, sorry about my grammar issues last time… I'll make sure it doesn't happen with this chapter or any others, for that matter. Sorry… But do enjoy, for those who've kept reading to now.**

* * *

Seventeen: The Voice Of The Lost

"Sorry to interrupt boys," Mrs. Hudson had a huge blush coming on as she had walked in. "But I just had a question. Very brief and very… you might think it's stupid-" she tried.

"Just ask," Sherlock said, bored now that he wasn't on top of or under John. Newly -weds, eh?

Anyway, "Well, I was just wondering if you were going to have a honeymoon, at all," she asked, burning still as the pink never left her cheeks.

"Why would we? I hate mushy things and John doesn't much care," John smiled for emphasis. "Besides, I'm sure that with the habit of-"

Knowing what Sherlock was about to say, John interjected, "We're quite comfortable in our own bed, and another feels weird." He glared softly at Sherlock, "There is no need to go into our 'habits' Sherlock," he said, but his cheeks were rosy by the time he had finished explaining.

"Right, sorry. Anyway, John, when are you going to get milk?" she asked, knowing neither boy had thought about it lately.

"Actually, probably right now. I have other things I need as well, and I'm sure Sher-"

"No, I'm good. Taking Aveen?" he asked as he leaned into John's shoulder, his breath hot on John's neck and the blond shivered.

John shrugged and looked to her as Mrs. Hudson sighed in content at how utterly beautiful the scene in front of her was. She had always known there was something going on between those two. But Aveen shrugged as well.

The landlady left as John decided, "You know, why don't you just keep an eye on her? I'll go alone, I'm fine," he turned to Sherlock and watched as the curls lifted from his shoulder and those beautiful lips made contact with his cheek.

But that wasn't good enough, and Sherlock knew it wouldn't be as his face was still extremely close to John's. He closed the distance and placed a lingering kiss to his husband's lips. "Don't attract too much attention," Sherlock joked.

"I'm not that attractive, Sherlock," John said.

"You caught _my_ attention," he contradicted.

"That's because we live together. I could have been just another bloke that was ignored because you were on a case," he reasoned.

Sherlock shrugged, "But you weren't ignored," the detective argued.

John just shrugged again and gave a lopsided smile, "I'm getting dressed and I'm going," he nodded, assuring himself that he was going to get up.

But when he did, he had a brunette attached to his backside. "You aren't just somebody else, John." But the realization that he could have been was painful. Of course he didn't say that, but it was so obvious that it was emanating from him that he thought about this too much. "That's John, always over thinking things," Sherlock thought aloud.

"You do realize you said that aloud?" as he stepped through the door to their bedroom. Sherlock shrugged, placing his lips against John's neck. "Sherlock, if you don't stop, I won't be going anywhere."

"Oh?" so he kept doing it. Trailing kisses up to John's jaw to his shoulder.

"Sherlock," John warned, but he kept going, adding teeth and tongue. John hated his determination for many things. He was stubborn when it came to what he wanted. But John needed to go. So instead of completely fighting Sherlock off, he slightly gave in.

As I said, slightly, as he had turned around and connected himself to Sherlock. Teeth to teeth, tongue to tongue and Sherlock was surprised by this, which was what John was going for. "I promise, tonight. But I need to go," he said to Sherlock's unspoken but obvious question.

"But tonight is so far away," he whined and John simply tapped him lightly on the arse.

"Shut up, Sherlock," and he was off to get dressed…

* * *

Lestrade had found the mess Sherlock had texted him about, and he had to say, it was interesting that all the Boys of Baker Street had to do was appear in front of a baddie, and they automatically die. Lestrade chuckled to himself as his men carried out the two bodies. But one (Maggie) was almost transparent.

Gregory was surprised that they could even touch here, let alone get her on the stretcher. She looked as though she was only an outline in the air. It was weird, as he could make out her features and everything, but it was like an almost invisible spider web. You had to look hard, or you wouldn't have seen a thing.

Maybe it was a poison or something. He'd have Molly try to work it out, and Sherlock would probably take it upon himself to figure it out as well. And then someone was mumbling something to him and he couldn't quite catch it. But when he turned to see who it was, they had disappeared.

He shook his head, and thought maybe he was hearing things. So he simply left with everyone else and he was soon settled back in his office, with things to do and very little time to do them in. And then there was that voice again. Right in his ear.

_"Gregory,"_ it was so low a whisper that he couldn't tell if it was male or female. But he jumped up from his chair with a squeal, and hoped no one had heard that. And then _it_ was giggling. Oh God, what the hell was this?

But he sat down and calmed himself. At least the voice wasn't in his head, yet. He didn't know what it was about, but it was creepy. Okay, creepy was an understatement. It was completely horrifying to think something was 'haunting' him. Although, as he went back to work, he had forgotten its existence.

He simply worked in complete silence. He sighed at how boring this was. He wondered what Sherlock and John were doing. Oh God no, images he doesn't need. Why does it always get that way when he thinks of them as a couple? But his mind wandered even more to Mycroft…

And there laid his cell phone on his desk. He hadn't even said good morning to his lover. _Lover…_ it sounds so foreign to Gregory. Well, that's because it was, but it was simply the fact that he had never thought he could have someone like a Holmes.

As in, he didn't imagine having someone so… perfect. And he was so painfully normal compared to Mycroft. Sure, in school and in uni he was considered a genius, but now? There were people stealing his spotlight. He didn't mind, he just wondered how he could have attracted the attention of someone so different.

An no, not 'opposites attract' different, just, he didn't know. Just different. But seeing as he already felt guilty for not talking to Mycroft and he couldn't stop thinking about him now, he plucked his phone from beside his mess of papers that he needed to one day settle into a neat pile or something.

But for now, he texted Mycroft. **Morning, Love…- GL**

That was it, and now he would patiently wait for a- _ding._ Holy shit, he was fast. Though, he was probably attached to his mobile, so what was one more text?

Gregory unlocked his phone and read the sweet and simple reply: **Morning it is, but it is a very distracting morning, isn't it?- MH**

**How do you mean?- GL**

**You texted first, what do you think it means?- MH**

**Honestly, with you, I don't know…- GL**

**You should, seeing as you were the first to text. Though, I suppose you weren't the first to think about it.- MH**

**You were thinking about me?- GL **He blushed simply at the thought that Mycroft was thinking about him.

**I'm always thinking about everything. But you are among that list of everything, yes- MH**

Of course Mycroft would come up with a double sided comment. **You don't have to be all professional. Tell me what you're thinking about. You're talking to me, after all- GL**

**If I told you what I was really thinking, it would distract you from the obvious work you have to be getting on with- MH**

**You're already distracting- GL**

**Am I?- MH**

**Very- GL**

**Water…- MH**

**What about it, Love?- GL**

**It's pouring down your back- MH**

**We're going to play this game, are we? Well, then I'm pushing you to the wall...- GL**

* * *

Sherlock sat with his hands steepled under his chin as John walked from the kitchen to him, "I'll be back," he sighed and gave Sherlock a kiss to his curls and was down the stairs as Sherlock decided that wasn't even close to good enough, and followed his husband down the stairs.

"Get back here," he growled playfully and pushed John to the door. John waited for the kiss to happen, but it didn't as Sherlock grinned down on his lover. John was on his toes as he kissed Sherlock very briefly.

That still wasn't good enough and Sherlock grabbed him by the waist, pulling him so close they were literally breathing each other's air. He smirked as their lips connected slowly and John couldn't help but to snake his arms around Sherlock's neck and tip his head so Sherlock could have easier access.

Sherlock smiled against John's lips and his tongue darted across them before John's mouth fell open for the man above him. Sherlock was satisfied as he dipped his tongue to John's and it was a perfect agreement in the extraordinary silence.

John pulled away, giving Sherlock's nose a kiss before winking and slipping out the door. Sherlock stood still, his head hanging as he realized what had just happened and he shook his head. He really needed to swallow his feelings sometimes. That was actually really hot and he was starting to sweat.

But then Sherlock got the best of ideas. "Aveen?!" he yelled as he ascended the stairs and she scuttled to the top of them, looking in question.

* * *

"It's my baby and I don't want someone else feeding him, I'm sorry," she explained as she rocked him lightly. Eve nodded, not hurt at all actually. She knew how mothers were about their children, and that was just it. It was _Mary's_ child, not Eve's.

Although, Eve glanced at the fairly small diamond about her fiancé's finger and smugly said, "What's yours is mine. Especially when the last of the knots will be tied," Eve kissed her fingers and Mary blushed but retaliated.

"Not my breast milk, that's strictly mine and it's a bit weird if you want that," she giggled.

"Yeah, that is weird. But I don't want just your breasts or the milk, I want all of you. _You_ are mine," and she kissed the fingers in her hand again as Mary was unfazed by her possessiveness.

Mary was the same way. Something's hers, it's _hers_. Which was why she had such a hard time accepting that John wasn't hers anymore. She still hated that, but what can she do now? He's long gone and probably enjoys Sherlock's ass more than her vagina. Just saying…

Besides, she has no room to be jealous or spiteful. She has, "Eve," and, "I love you," are the most true words she's spoken in years. Eve simply blushed, muttering the words back as Ivan was mouthing at Mary's shirt again.

Though, it was about time for that again, so Mary wasn't at all uncomfortable when she fed her precious baby and Eve just watched as Ivan invaded her land. She was jealous, but she also knew that once Ivan's teeth set in, it'd be painful. For everyone. "Do you think he'll be part of the other 2% that comes out human?" Eve asked.

"I don't care," Mary said simply. Eve shrugged then. She didn't think Mary would be so accepting either way. Eve has never had someone who agreed with her on almost every subject. Except for music, Mary hated the 'stupid' metal that Eve loved, and Eve despised the country that Mary hums constantly.

Then again, in Mary's voice, it does sound a lot better. And you know, even there, they agreed that dub step was ridiculous and that screaming wasn't singing. Eve smiled, "Have you noticed how much we agree on so much?"

Mary shrugged as Ivan was rocked slightly once more in her careful arms. Eve smiled as Mary returned it…

* * *

"Since when did we go to libraries?" Aveen asked.

"Are you complaining?" Sherlock said as he ushered her through the door.

"No, I just thought you didn't consult books," she admitted.

"Consult? You are so my child," he rolled his eyes. "Anyway, you're right. I don't usually go to libraries for help. But the internet doesn't tell you all about the creatures of other intelligent races, now does it?" he was suddenly whispering and Aveen smirked.

"I can tell you all about my species," she whispered back. Sherlock nodded, betting she probably could. "By the way, Witches are bitches," Aveen rhymed and Sherlock's eyes widened.

"Aveen Marie Holmes- Watson, watch your mouth," he warned and she scowled at him muttering something about it being true, though. He ushered her up the stairs and past the kids books up to the more adult things.

Surely there'd be something like legends that people 'made up'. He had to find something. But where to start was the biggest problem, though. Then he figured he could start with ancient lore…

* * *

Gregory had had the voice stop teasing him for the rest of his work day. But when he twisted the key in his door, it was whispering to him again. _"You're very interesting as a human,"_ it giggled.

He ignored it as he ascended his stairs and closed the door to his smallish flat. _"Oh, come on, don't you wanna play, Greg?" _it teased.

"Shut the fuck up and bugger off," he waved his hands about as his coat slipped from his shoulders and he hung it. His toes helped slip his shoes off and Gregory shuffled to the kitchen where he made himself a cuppa.

And then he heard a familiar ding in his pocket, and pulling out his phone, he realized it was a text from Mycroft. **Home, I assume?- MH**

Gregory didn't question why or how Mycroft knew, he simply texted back. **Yeah, why?- GL**

And not seconds after, the mobile was vibrating in his hand. Oh, you sly bastard. He answered and sure enough it was, "Mycroft," Gregory sighed.

"Disappointed?" his lover asked.

"No," he yawned as he plucked his cup from under the fountain thingy on his coffee machine. "Tired," he admitted.

"I should let you sleep, then," it wasn't a question.

"I honestly don't think I can," he sat at his two person table and sighed.

"But you just said you were tired. And you yawned," Mycroft pointed out.

"Yes, well, without the British Government in my bed, I probably won't sleep," he complained.

"What if I came over, then?"

Gregory fell silent. But he eventually answered, "My flat is a mess, and I don't live like you do," he admitted.

"Why would that matter?" he asked, truly curious. "Look, Gregory," Greg, it's Greg. But anyway, "It doesn't matter to me. So why should it matter to you?"

"Because you're brilliant and always graceful as I am, myself a stupid slob," he reasoned.

"You aren't stupid Gregory. You just live around the Holmes too much to think otherwise," he pointed out. Greg huffed as the voice that had seemed to fall silent was at it again.

"_Ooo! Is that your lover?"_ it giggled. Greg groaned and sunk his head into his arms and yet still had the phone to his ear.

"Gregory?" Mycroft asked. Greg… but Greg hummed in return, and the MI6 man asked, "Who was that?"

"Who was who?" he asked. Did Mycroft hear the voice, too?

"The one teasing you," he asked as the giggling hadn't stopped.

"Wait, you can hear it?" he perked up.

"Of course I can, who is it?" he asked, then realized what was going on. "I'm coming over and we're sleeping together," Mycroft promised.

"Don't you-?"

"Irrelevant," he explained and hung up as Greg stared at his phone in bewilderment. How could Mycroft hear a voice that Greg was imagining? Or _was_ he imagining it? He didn't fucking know anymore. He had been so focused on so many other things.

So he just sat, drinking from a small cup and thinking about what Mycroft would think of the way he lives. He had been exaggerating when he said 'a mess'. It was more, rubbish spread everywhere and out of place than actually being a mess of food or something dirty like that.

It was mostly papers from when he brought work home. Oh, how he hated bringing work home. It was all worth it in the end, though. Then there was that annoyance of a voice, _"You do know me by the way." _Did he?

"Do I?" he gave up on trying to ignore the ignorant fuckery of a whisper.

"_Oh yes, you saw me only half a day earlier,"_ had he?

"I don't remember bumping into a cowardice whisper," he contradicted.

"_Because I was shy. But I like you,"_ it admitted.

"Shy? You're in my fucking head, I am not shy!" he couldn't figure this out.

"_I'm not in your head, Gregory," _it tried.

"Oh? Then why…?" he left it hanging as the voice took over.

"_I am as real as any other human you have come across, and nonhuman, by the way." It giggled, "You know Sherlock Holmes? He is an interesting character. Especially with that pet of his. And their daughter. And then there's Mycroft. Mmm, he's tasty. I'm jealous," _it admitted in its usual hushed manor.

"Nonhuman?" was all he could get out before he heard footsteps up the stairs and then Mycroft stepping through the door. He swung his umbrella once and closed the door behind himself. "Hello, Love," Greg greeted and Mycroft nodded, offering a tight smile.

And before Mycroft took another step, he brought out his mobile and texted someone briefly as Greg wondered who it could be. but he was texting, basically saying that he was unavailable at the moment and Greg loved the idea of being completely alone with…

No, apparently he wasn't completely alone. Bloody brilliant, isn't it?...

* * *

**Find out anything you can on the subject of invisible creatures.-MH**

**Why should I?- SH**

But there was no reply as Aveen was swinging her feet under the table and was sunk deep into a book about Greek Mythology. Sherlock didn't believe that _those_ creatures were real, but he was reading more about Chinese lore and it was actually pretty weird, but interesting.

And he had completely given up on Japanese stories. They were too stupid to believe. But Aveen was soaking up that Greek crap. "Is it really that interesting? It's a bunch of petty gods and goddesses who think they're better than everyone. At least God loves his children," he snorted.

She looked up to him to show she hadn't even been listening to his question and he sighed in defeat. She simply turned the page and kept going. Sherlock rolled his eyes, but when they landed on the page she was reading he said, "Give me that," and took it from under her nose.

"Who the hell…?" and he looked at this God of Mischief. Loki, now that was interesting. Thor was a dunderhead, but Loki looked at least a little intimidating. And Sherlock had to admit, he was kind of attractive. Or maybe that was just the tricks he pulled on his brother.

"Boring, huh?" Aveen chuckled as she stole it back. Sherlock shrugged and looked to his own pages. He flipped through them, didn't he see something about creatures that were invisible and had a voice like a genderless whisper? Hmmmm…..

"Sherlock," Aveen warned and John came up the stairs to the table they were sitting at and he took a seat beside his husband. He twirled the ring on his finger as Aveen finally willingly looked up from the text and across the table to her father figures.

"Why are you here, Sherlock?" John asked and put his hand to Sherlock's knee.

"I texted you the details, John," he said as he wildly looked through the words that he had already seen.

"Thone were hardly details, Sherlock," John explained as his lover huffed, content. He finally found something!

"Look at this, John," he slid the book in between them and pointed to a few words at the top of the page. John looked to it and was about to ask, but was interrupted. "Mycroft said to find all I could on invisible things," as he pulled his mobile from his pocket.

He texted Mycroft that he found one that might be what he's (painfully obvious) looking for. And at the end he asked if he could know what was going on, as he was bored and needed a new case. Mycroft replied saying: **Sleep first, maybe eat and then I may consider letting you in on this.- MH**

**Fine- SH** and he left everything but his family as they struggled to keep up with his long legs. He slipped out the doors and already had a cab by the time John had caught up with him on the sidewalk. "Sherlock," he questioned, "what is going on?" as he was pushed into the cab and Aveen followed.

"I don't know, but I want to," and it irritates him. John nodded as he leaned over Sherlock's shoulder and breathed in his ear.

"Would you like a distraction?" he smirked and nipped at Sherlock's ear.

"Stop it, John," he shook his leg while his senses picked up John placing a hand to his knee. He sighed as he placed his own over it. "Later, you did promise," he grinned with a funny little thought coming through his mind.

"Okay," John agreed. Sherlock's grin faded to a straight line as his thoughts raced through so many possibilities in so little time. John loved that look in his eyes, it meant he was thinking and John thought Sherlock thinking was utterly sexy.

He didn't know why, it just was. So when they slipped out of the cab, he was already on his way to arousal and it really wasn't fun, seeing as he had to spend dinner with it until it finally faded completely when Aveen went to get a shower.

But then it creeped back as Sherlock whispered, "John," he teased. He slid his hand on John's thigh and up further as he continued, "You did promise," he reasoned.

"Later," he demanded. Sherlock huffed and it came out as more of a hot breath on John's neck. He shivered as Aveen walked back out and her hair was dripping wet.

She motioned for John to brush it like he always does, but Sherlock plucked her from the standing position she had held. He turned her hair to John as she handed him the brush and John started as he always did: with carefully gentle strokes. And Sherlock smiled into her lovely blue eyes as she was confused. Sherlock never gets involved with brushing her hair.

But when John was finished, Sherlock admired his work by petting her hair and tucking part of it behind her ear. He gave her a huge kiss to the forehead and whispered good night to her as she slipped off his lap. John followed her upstairs and tucked her in.

"Good night, dear," and he closed the door behind himself, finding Sherlock directly behind him. "Sherlock!" he whispered loudly.

"You promised…"

* * *

**I do deeply apologize for the idiocy of my grammar last chapter. But, reviews? **


	18. Chapter 18

Eighteen: The Source

Greg woke to sunlight beaming down on his skin through the thin curtains of his bedroom. And he was about to wake up happy that Mycroft was here, but then there was a whisper, and it was not the one he wanted. _"Gregory,"_ it giggled. Mycroft shot up from behind the DI.

"Gregory," Greg gave up on trying to get Mycroft to call him anything else, so he hummed and Mycroft continued, "That thing really is annoying," and Greg nodded.

"Yes, but we can't do anything about it," he huffed and rolled over to meet his lover's eyes. Mycroft looked down on him, and Greg knew that look.

Greg rolled his eyes and sat up to meet Mycroft's height, or try to. "Gregory," Mycroft said again. Greg leaned into his chest and hummed once more, "would you be comfortable bringing my brother into this?" it was the only reason he hadn't texted or called to give Sherlock the details.

Greg glanced up to his lover and sat up again, "Do you really think Sherlock can find out what the hell is going on?" he was truly curious. Sherlock's always has been able to solve these kinds of weird things.

"Not just Sherlock alone. But you get the whole family together, and perhaps," he shrugged and Greg rolled his eyes, placing his head against Mycroft's shoulder.

"You're not bringing that little girl into this," he mumbled.

"If the detective and the soldier are in it, so is the innocent girl. There's no stopping that, Gregory," he reasoned and Greg sighed.

"Fuck it, then," he agreed. But he wanted something else at this moment in time. He laid back down and pulled Mycroft down upon him. Their lips met and Greg exhaled in contentment….

* * *

Back to last night at Baker Street :P

"You promised," he whispered to John's neck and the blond shivered. "Don't break your promises, John," the brunette purred. Then he added, "Especially when they're so…" he kissed the skin under his lips, "…interesting…" he breathed.

John leaned into Sherlock, groaning as he was already half hard from that voice. Then again, the detective knew the soldier loved his voice, and he always used it to his advantage. "Sherlock," John growled as he turned to face the idiot.

"Come now, you _promised_," he stressed and John placed his lips to Sherlock's so he would just shut up. Though, at this moment in time, John loved any noise he could get to come from Sherlock. Sherlock kissed back as John pushed him to the opposite wall of the hall. "As much as I love the idea of sex in the hallway, Aveen is sleeping right there," he pointed lazily over John's shoulder.

Sherlock's forearms landed on John's shoulders, but quickly tightened around his neck as John easily picked him up off his feet. Sherlock wrapped himself around John in this alarming move, and loved every second of it at the same time.

John deliberately grabbed at Sherlock's ass while he took the man down the stairs and past the kitchen back to their room. And while he did this, he was kissing up and down Sherlock's neck and part of his shoulder. He could feel Sherlock blushing through his trousers.

John slammed the door shut with Sherlock's slim figure and he dropped his feet to the floor as his fingers were tangled in John's hair. John kept kissing down and when it was blocked by a shirt, he started unbuttoning said shirt.

His eyes glazed over the scar on Sherlock's shoulder and the many other little ones. He kissed each one, and he found a new spot on Sherlock that made him writhe and moan John's name like a prayer. A prayer saying, 'Please don't stop'. And he didn't as he got lower.

The shirt slipped from Sherlock's shoulders and onto the floor with John's knees. He grabbed Sherlock's hips and unbuttoned his trousers with his teeth. It was an act that made Sherlock wonder why he'd never done it before. He was good at it, too, as the trousers dropped and he gave teasing kisses to Sherlock's hips.

"Mmmm," they both hummed, both in satisfaction, but one wanting more than this. John's grip became slightly harder as he slipped Sherlock's pants from those pale and perfect hips. And even in these actions, John was dominant as he breathed on Sherlock's groin.

His fingers made shapes upon Sherlock's thighs briefly before they reached behind and grabbed Sherlock's arse and brought him closer. But he didn't press his lips to Sherlock's cock, no, Sherlock's member was simply pressed to his mouth. He did nothing intentionally as Sherlock grabbed at his shoulders.

He did eventually do something when his tongue parted his thin lips and pressed hotly to Sherlock's head. He licked over the slit and down Sherlock's shaft all the way to the hilt where he nipped at it. Sherlock groaned at his teasing as that tongue slicked back up and his teeth grazed over the slit once more.

That was when his pants dropped to his ankles and John stood. Sherlock stepped out of his clothes and landed on top of John on the bed and he proceeded to undress his lover and John pressed kisses and his tongue to Sherlock's neck and shoulder. "If that's your attempt at dis-" and he moaned when John grabbed his cock in hand.

"Quiet," John warned as Sherlock continued, pulling off John's shirt and then his trousers. They scattered over the floor as John's pants joined it all. Sherlock ground his hips to John's, rubbing their groins to one another. They both moaned and John's pelvis lifted from the bed, bringing them together again.

His fingers gripped Sherlock's hips as he couldn't stop the friction. He loved it so much more than Sherlock will ever know. It was a bit weird at first, yeah. But now he couldn't go without it. He also couldn't go without the want he had right about now.

Sherlock could tell that he was to be under John's rule, again. But as a ruler, this rule will be bent…

* * *

"_S is for the simple need, E is for the ecstasy, X is just to mark the spot, 'cause that's the one you really want!" _The flat was filled with this atrocity as Mary walked into the kitchen and Ivan was in Eve's arms as she 'danced' with him.

"There's something really wrong with this picture," Mary laughed as she slipped her coat from her shoulders and draped it over the chair.

But Eve simply sang, "Sex is always the answer, it doesn't matter the question, 'cause the answer's yes…" and Mary rolled her eyes. Then she proceeded to take Ivan from Eve's arms as she danced around the kitchen alone, and now making tea, apparently.

Though Mary was annoyed by the lyrics, the way Eve was moving was very interesting as she couldn't stop staring. But that song was over and it was changed to something even more stupid. _"Sexin' on the dance floor… getting' hot, hot, sexin' on the dance floor…" _Mary rolled her eyes again as Eve just kept going round and round in the kitchen, and somehow still accomplishing her task.

Mary gave a loving look to her baby and wondered if he could understand what was in the lyrics. But that didn't matter anymore as Eve settled and turned to the song on her phone to a softer one, instead of 'club bullshit', as Mary liked to call it.

"Hey, listen to this, you might like it," she suggested as something came over Eve's phone's speakers that Mary had never heard before. It was a strange beat as she perked up her ears.

"What is that?" she stood, rocking Ivan in her arms slightly as she looked at the screen of the IPhone. It was this weird band with the name of 'All Time Low' and Mary was intrigued. "It sounds like something for teenagers," she complained as she sat down once again.

"Sh, just listen with me," she dropped the phone to the table as she grabbed Mary's hand. _"… There's room for two, six feet under the stars…" _Mary shrugged as Eve was humming along. "Mary," she smirked, "will you join me six feet under the stars?" and Mary laughed.

"This _is_ more tolerable than your other stuff," she admitted.

"Oh, come on, you know you like it," Eve grinned and Mary shrugged again. Ivan giggled as he gripped at Mary's blouse. It was a fuchsia like color, but a bit darker and he grabbed it with both hands. He pulled at her collar before he pulled at the buttons.

"Looks like he'll be a ladies' man," Eve joked as one of the buttons came undone. Mary waved his hands away and buttoned it again as he giggled. "Anyway, what do you say, dinner and then bed? The three of us?" she suggested.

"Sounds lovely," Mary agreed. Eve smiled as she let the song fade and flip to something else. Mary had to say, it was a little enjoyable, and Ivan seemed to like it, as he wasn't crying…

* * *

This moment was completely full of heat, and John was panting as Sherlock kept grinding against him. But Sherlock didn't stay on top as his legs were wrapped around John's waist and his back hit the covers. He smirked and John rubbed them together one last time.

That last time was all he got before John slipped to where Sherlock's thighs were on his shoulders and his tongue was on Sherlock's member again. Sherlock moaned as John took half of him in his mouth. "John… mmm, more," he hummed.

John bit down briefly before returning to the original position he had taken and kissing Sherlock senseless as he finally reached over to dig around in the drawer of the night stand. Sherlock grinned through the kisses as the cap popped open and John only needed one hand to get his fingers wet.

It was a huge turn on and Sherlock was almost dripping before John actually got to teasing his entrance. Sherlock gripped John's shoulder and John's hip, where his hands had landed and held tight as John slipped in two digits.

He expertly found that bundle of nerves and Sherlock gasped which led to a moan and John's name being put to his lips and breath. John loved the sound of that and he curled his fingers once more to get that reaction. Sure enough, he got it again, with a louder moan. He smirked as his fingers scissored and he pulled them out agonizingly slow.

Sherlock writhed and wriggled in anticipation with what John was obviously going for. But Sherlock had his own ideas once John was settled inside him. John spread Sherlock's knees across his legs as well as his own knees on the bed as he slipped slowly in.

Sherlock groaned as his arms wrapped around John's neck. He brought John to a heated kiss and John's hips moved slowly and teasingly as Sherlock's tongue slipped through his teeth. Sherlock's fangs had taken longer to come out this time, but they were like that lately, what with them doing this every other fucking night. But neither was complaining as the sensation that always took place never faded.

Even now, Sherlock had to fight off the urge to bite, because John was just being so delicious. But he soon gave up. Although, not before he brought his fingers to his lips and John was confused a bit. But then he realized what Sherlock was doing, and he wondered how that would feel.

So he let Sherlock's fingertips tease his own entrance and his knees spread wider as his thrusts were a little faster. He tried to get Sherlock's fingers deeper, but he wanted to be deeper in Sherlock himself. It was confusing, but he finally found a good rhythm that didn't interrupt either action.

Sherlock was pleased with this and his digits were thrust all the way and his finger's tips brushed over John's sweet spot and his teeth traced the most prominent vein in John's lovely neck. John moaned and almost screamed as Sherlock's name was said as another sings an anthem.

The teeth and the fingers and the tight feeling was all too much yet not enough, as Sherlock swallowed and felt every movement, every sensation, every fervour kiss… This wasn't new to either of them, but as Sherlock lapped up the blood, it felt so much better than anything else. The wound was disappearing and that cute pink trying to help as well, as Sherlock's fingers curled.

They hit John's prostate several times and the jerking of his hips with each stroked left Sherlock a moaning mess. Both of them chanted each other's name and some other very dirty but somehow loving things. And when John's thrusts got faster, harder, Sherlock's fingers twisted again, and he was panting as Sherlock couldn't take it anymore. John needed to touch him, more.

He grabbed the blond's hand and both of their hands curled into a fist around the brunette's cock and John realized as Sherlock's movements mirrored his own. Sherlock was right, that was all he needed before he was over the edge and coming in John's hand.

John, upon hearing this and feeling that tight clenching around the base of his cock, was riding through a powerful orgasm as names were screamed and John collapsed. His knees couldn't hold him anymore and his arms were dead as he laid panting on Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock chuckled, "No matter what, I always leave you like that," he rubbed his hand over John's back and John shivered as he managed to pull himself off and out of Sherlock.

"Sorry," he breathed and tucked his head under Sherlock's chin, kissing the underside of his jaw.

"Don't be. I think it's adorable and sexy," he admitted. John had never heard those two words in the same sentence, and coming out of Sherlock's mouth. He smirked as he somehow found the energy to lift himself and give Sherlock a furtive and fervour kiss.

"I love you," he breathed as he settled again.

"I love you more."

"I love you most…"

* * *

Gregory huffed as Mycroft's lips left his. "Gregory, we have to get up."

Greg growled and pushed Mycroft to the sheets, "No," and he placed his lips to Mycroft's neck and soon his teeth joined.

"Gregory," Mycroft warned. This time Greg just whined something and it sounded like a complaint. Mycroft chuckled and pulled the silver haired man from his body to sit up.

"Why do I have to leave my comfort zone?" he rubbed his eyes and sat up to meet Mycroft. _"I'm here, remember. I doubt you're comfortable with me around," _it whispered in his ear. He shivered as Mycroft wasn't surprised when he jumped from the sheets. "Yup, let's go," he dressed again and Mycroft did join him, dressing as well.

But before he slid his phone in his pocket, he texted Sherlock, saying he was coming over because he wanted more information about this creature he thinks might be the one. Then he called a car of his own, because he is not using a cab. They always smell weird…

* * *

Sherlock was already awake, staring down on his lover's sleeping face. He smiled as his fingers traced down John's middle and back up to his lips. His fingertips danced over the blond's lips and he smiled wider when John hummed.

But a little *_ding*_ ruined everything. John's eyes fluttered open as Sherlock regrettably rose from the bed and walked to pick up his discarded trousers. He dug through his pocket and pulled out his now lit up screen. He needs to charge this thing.

But he had a text from his brother, telling him he was coming over to discuss certain issues. No doubt, he was bringing Lestrade as well, as this problem obviously has something to do with him, too. John sat up and asked what was going on. "Mycroft's visiting," he snorted at that word his brother had used.

"So we should get up?" John asked and already he didn't like it.

"I already am, it's you that has to get up. Although, I don't think my brother would like to see us naked, so get dressed," John rolled his eyes at the obvious being stated, but he did stand up. Sherlock stared. John looked about the room and sighed as he could feel Sherlock's eyes on him.

Particularly his body, but still. Sherlock eyed every inch of John. His shoulders and the way he never fixed his small posture problem, the way his hips somehow stood out with the smallest of curves from his abdomen and how he was so skinny yet had muscle. And let's not forget being well-endowed. Sherlock smirked as he turned round again and looked to the mess they made last night.

John cleared this mess after he was dressed and Sherlock was in the kitchen with Aveen. Aveen was eating cereal, like always. John wanted to make her eat something else, but she would probably refuse. The soldier's feet hit the tile in the kitchen as Mycroft walked through the door. It was perfect timing.

But he didn't care if anyone heard, "You could at least help clean up our mess, Sherlock," and he sat in the third chair. Mycroft walked in, not questioning, as Greg walked in behind him.

That voice was whispering to Gregory things he didn't feel like hearing, and he was getting annoyed. Sherlock read this and looked to Mycroft, who seemed a little irritated as well. But as his weight shifted to the handle of the umbrella, he asked, "Tell me what you found on the creature."

"Oh, that yes," Sherlock closed his eyes briefly before opening them to a waiting Mycroft and a getting redder in the face, Lestrade. "It was one that deceived people into thinking it was a ghost, but in reality it's just a branch off of shape shifters, because it shifts to match its surroundings. It's very clever and when it's in that form you can't hear anything of its voice but a 'genderless' whisper. Sound like the one you're looking for?" he asked as his thumb rubbed across John's, as he had taken John's hand in his own.

Greg nodded, "That actually sounds right, how would you know?" he asked. Sherlock waved his hand about and was to explain how.

But Aveen stepped in, "We read books, and it was fun," she smiled and Greg rolled his eyes, Sherlock never ceased to amaze him with how normal he was sometimes. "Plus," she added, "we know more about the paranormal than you ever will," she smirked as he was completely confused.

But all the confusion faded as a woman materialized behind them, "Hello, Gregory," she giggled and placed a hand to his shoulder. He jumped at least a few inches in the air before he grabbed at Mycroft's arm and squeezed.

But he took a good look, "Morgan?" he recognized this annoyance.

"Hi," he let go of his lover's arm and she waved a little. Her brilliant grey eyes looked to the rest of the men and the one child in the kitchen. John observed her and her hair was a bit frizzy as it was cut short and fluffy brown. Sherlock gave her a studious look as she stared at him back. "The Holmes brothers get settled, then? Interesting," she smiled and Greg glared at her.

Mycroft studied her as well, and he looked to his brother. They both rolled their eyes and John was confused, as he had no idea what that look meant. He never did. But Sherlock gave him a look that said, 'deduce what I have'. He tried, but he couldn't see what was so special about her.

I mean, yeah, she can turn basically invisible and she's been stalking the shit out of Gregory and Mycroft, but what was so different? Aveen looked closer and she could see what Sherlock was seeing and only just then, with Aveen, did John realize what they were getting at.

Miranda looked homeless. They all knew she wasn't, but the way she dressed suggested otherwise: baggy jeans, sneakers, tank top covered by a simple grey hoodie and that was why her hair was a bit frazzled. John nodded and Greg was completely lost.

But once Sherlock asked, he could see it. "Been communicating with the homeless network, have we?" he seemed pleased somehow. John was confused as to why Sherlock was enjoying this as he rose from his chair and walked circles around her. She rolled her eyes and looked over the little girl that had caught her attention.

Aveen grinned as she knew what was catching her attention. Aveen had been practicing, and she thinks she finally has it down. And she flicked her fingers to Mycroft's umbrella. Sherlock saw that, and the umbrella slipped from his hand and he almost fell over.

He picked it up from the floor and studied what could have made it slip like that. It never slips. John watched as Aveen turned back around to her milk and simply acted like nothing happened. But John said nothing as Greg did ask, "You never slip, what happened?" he touched Mycroft's shoulder.

Mycroft opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed as though he didn't know, and he hated admitting that he didn't know something. So instead he settled on, "I'm not sure," and Sherlock chuckled.

They all looked to him expecting an explanation for the umbrella, or simply why he felt the need to laugh."John, dear, you did see what I saw, correct?" and John smiled, nodding. "Everyone else, do try to keep up," he warned and continued. "He didn't slip, Lestrade. But you probably wouldn't believe me if I told you. Though, I'm going to tell you anyway," he smiled.

"Get on with it, you git," Greg demanded.

"Right, it was Aveen," and John caught the blush that built up on her face. John grinned lightly as Sherlock continued. "It seems as though she's been practicing, when I have no idea, but do it again," he ordered her. Well, she had just finished her milk, so…

Her fingers danced in the air as her bowl, and the spoon floated into the sink. John leaned back a bit as they slammed to the bottom of the metal, "Fantastic!" and her blush grew deeper. Sherlock nodded once, as in, 'Kudos'.

John was used to this family's 'problems' by now, but Mycroft and Gregory were not, and the random 'Miranda' character wasn't too used to this type of magic. Sherlock simply shook it off as Miranda's eyes widened and Greg's grip on Mycroft's shoulder became tighter as he wanted to run.

"What the hell was that?" and if everyone hadn't been being quiet they wouldn't have heard Greg say this.

Aveen grinned as she permitted Sherlock to tell everyone else, "Aveen isn't exactly completely human. She's a… what did you call yourself?" she knew he knew, but he was trying to include her, as she hadn't spoken since this situation got sticky.

"I am a Wicken, not a Witch, don't get them confused, because I will punch your gut out through your throat." She softened from the glare, "But yes, I practice magic, and it's quite fun making people 'trip'," she giggled and Sherlock rolled his eyes as John simply shook his head through the smile he had built up, and it wasn't fading.

Mycroft understood now, and shrugged as Greg let go if his shoulder. Greg looked to everyone in the room, and seriously contemplated running out the door. Sherlock grinned and Greg glared. "My family was killed by you retches," Miranda suddenly spat. Her fists were curled and her knuckles white as her anger burned through her body.

"I hardly think it's the child's fault that your family was murdered," Sherlock pointed out and she threw a glare at him that John did not want to be under. He even shivered just looking at it from there.

Aveen rolled her eyes, "I probably wasn't even born when your family died," she scoffed. Miranda quirked and angry brow at her and she smiled. "I'm only nine," she said innocently.

"Are we done here?" Sherlock complained, "Lestrade, just arrest her or something," he waved her off and walked back over to John and sat in his chair once again.

John sighed, "Just do as he says and leave our flat. It would be appreciated greatly," he explained and Aveen smiled again. Lestrade exhaled in frustration as he grabbed Miranda's arm, and too shocked to do anything, she let him drag her out the door and down the stairs. Mycroft followed as he held tighter to his umbrella.

Sherlock waved goodbye and Mycroft glared shortly before walking down the stairs. The door closed and suddenly they all looked to each other and burst out laughing…

* * *

**Yeah, I think I'm going to end it soon, I don't know. But, Reviews? Before I finish the last few chapters? **


	19. Chapter 19

Nineteen: I Can Cure You

The laughter lasted for so long that they could barely breathe by the end of it. They wiped away tears as they tried to calm down. Aveen settled, and Sherlock, then John. They had settled enough now for John to ask, "How long did it take you to figure out how to do that?"

He grabbed Sherlock's hand and entwined their fingers as she smiled. "A week. I could teach you if you like, it actually has nothing to do with magic. It's simply that potential that humans have locked away. I am partly human after all," she smiled.

"So wait, it isn't magic? And how could I possibly do that?" John asked.

"Oh, John, sometimes you really are slow." Sherlock sat forward and looked to his lover, "You have heard of the 'unused' DNA that scientists and doctors have found, the part of the string of human DNA they have no idea what it's used for? Well, that's what it was used for. Telepathy, telekinesis, and even control of the elements. Did you really think man 'found' fire?" he scoffed and gave an amused smile.

"Man _created_ fire," John argued.

"No, they could only control it. And even then, you really can't. It's also why humans don't use all of their mind to its full capacity. Because almost half of it is locked away and they don't care to find why or how to _un_lock it," he reasoned.

"But it makes no sense, how did you not know about it before, then? Why weren't you using it?" John asked.

"Because I, despite what you think, was an idiot. And lately, I just haven't had the time to do anything about it," he explained. John smiled at the fact that he called himself an idiot.

"By the way, I wanted to tell you this a long while ago, but never got the chance," Aveen spoke, "I know how to cure you. Or at least, the spell to do so," she smiled.

"'Cure' me?" Sherlock was confused.

"Being a Vampire is a type of disease, I hope you know," she explained and his eyes widened and John stuttered.

"Y-You can… H-How, exactly?" his grip on Sherlock's hand became tighter.

"Like I said, a spell. Specifically, a blood spell, seeing as it was a blood spell that did it in the first place," her gaze flickered from Sherlock to John and back to the detective. "Would you like me to get my book?" she asked. Her book?

Sherlock looked to her in curiosity and John was just confused. She giggled softly and ran back to her room, grabbing the spell book she had found before, and Sherlock never noticed she took it. How, no one had a clue. She even thought he'd known.

"Here," she plopped it down on the table. "It's a book of spells, and it is interesting, I have to say," she sat down once more and Sherlock fingered the leather bound book. He slid it over the table top to under his stare.

He studied the binding and everything. It was in good shape for being at least a hundred years of age. He didn't ask how she got it, because obviously she had somehow sipped it on her person when they were at the library. He opened it as the spine crackled and Sherlock was pleased.

John perked up and looked over Sherlock's long fingers to the words printed on the first page, "You die, and it's not my fault," the page warned. Sherlock scoffed and flipped the page over to the first explanation of this spell, then the things to put to it, and the small incantation you would say. But this one was only a healing spell.

"Here," Aveen offered and she flipped the pages with ease as she found the spell she had been studying. "Read this," she suggested as the boys read about the blood spell. It involved a small amount of human blood, and a few other things Sherlock was sure they had around the flat. And the incantation wasn't as long as some of the others.

"Do you want to try it?" John asked. He didn't care what Sherlock did, he married a Vampire, after all. Honestly though, he'd like it better if Sherlock was human, so he wouldn't be the only one, but he didn't mind if Sherlock wanted to stay the way he was. Plus, if he was human, Sherlock could actually grow old with him, instead of John dying first. John was sure Sherlock would tear himself apart at that.

Sherlock glanced from John to the words scribbled on the page, then to Aveen and back to the words, then finally back to John's bright but dark blue eyes. Aveen's sparkled as John glanced from her to Sherlock's brilliant grey/blue eyes. "Well?" she asked and they both jumped a little.

Sherlock swallowed, and he flipped the page to look to the back of it and at the side effects of turning a Vampire back to a human. The only ones it listed was the fact that they'll obviously be extremely hungry, and it was pretty much the same as turning to a Vampire. Except instead of getting rid of the teeth, they'll lay dormant and never be used again.

Sherlock flipped it back over and looked to the 'ingredients' it wanted. "John, do we even have these?" he asked, pointed to some of the herbs.

"Yes," surprisingly, "all of it. Do You want to…?" he left it open and didn't finish the question as his other hand found Sherlock's and he squeezed both of them in his own. Sherlock bit his lip, and looked to the faded pages for the last time, then nodded slowly.

Aveen smiled, "This should be interesting…" she looked to John and he glared slightly at her as Sherlock just nodded again, agreeing that this should prove to be at least no boring…

* * *

"I have no idea what to charge her with. Plus, she was a good one to have on the force, so I don't even know if I want to charge her with anything," Lestrade was complaining to Mycroft as they had stepped into his office. They had left Miranda handcuffed to the table in the interrogation room, with a guard, of course.

"How about trespassing?" Mycroft suggested, "If anything, she was stalking you. We still don't why she was following _you_," he pointed out and Greg huffed as he sat in his chair at his desk.

"So I'm not interesting enough," he was insulted, but just a bit. Mycroft shrugged and Greg seriously questioned why the MI6 man loved him, then. Then again, no one knows why Sherlock loves John, he just does. Why is he comparing his relationship to them? He's nothing like John, no offense to him. Plus, they don't have a daughter that needs their love to last.

Anyway, Mycroft leaned on Greg's desk with his hip and he had to actually think about this instead of just processing information and having the answer automatically. Why would she follow Gregory? Was it simply because she was bored and he was the first person she thought of?

Nonetheless, Gregory needs to put her in some kind of containment unit until she stops being so creepy. Even Mycroft is creeped out by her. Then suddenly, the man leaning on his lover's desk smiled. That was why Mycroft loved the DI. Because of moments like these.

He doesn't get to stand in an office of the modern world anymore. Then there was the fact that if he hadn't met Gregory, he wouldn't have a more fun way to get into Sherlock's life. No matter what the little brat argued, if Mycroft wasn't there, Sherlock would be dead by now. There were many people, human or not, who wanted his head.

"What are you smiling at?" Greg seemed annoyed that he didn't know.

Mycroft only turned to look at his silver haired man full on instead of through a sideways glance, and smiled wider. Greg scoffed and was about to say something, but Mycroft's lips stopped him. He was surprised, to say the least, but he accepted and kissed back, and they separated before either one could do anything else.

"To answer your stupid question, I was smiling at you," his thumb traced Greg's bottom lip and Greg blushed lightly.

"Why?"

"Who else would I smile for?" and Greg blinked and gulped. He shrugged and Mycroft chuckled at how speechless he left the Detective Inspector. Greg blushed harder when Mycroft pulled him up from his chair and in between his legs. "Despite the rumours and what you think, I do love you," he placed his hands on Greg's hips and Greg smiled.

"Do you really? I am quite boring," he admitted as his palms spread over the wood of his desk on either side of Mycroft.

"You're not boring, you're just not normal," Mycroft said.

"'Not normal', huh? As in…?" he prompted.

"You're not as stupid as Sherlock brought you out to be," Mycroft's fingers brushed back the silver/grey hair from Greg's forehead and placed a kiss where his fingertips had once been.

"That's not always a good thing," Greg shrugged and Mycroft brought him closer.

"It is when your name is Gregory Lestrade," he grinned and Greg simply blushed again, putting his forehead against Mycroft's hoping he couldn't see the cute pink spreading across his face.

"I love you, too," he finally said and Mycroft hummed in agreement as their noses touched and Greg's breath seemed to leave him as Mycroft brought him into a kiss. But this was definitely not like all the others. This was possessive, yes, but it was lovingly possessive, if that makes any sense. He could feel all the hidden emotion radiating from his lover's lips and they both smiled into this breathless kiss.

When they broke, Greg still wanted contact, and gave Mycroft a kiss to the corner of his mouth as he panted out breaths. Greg sighed in contentment as Mycroft simply brought his breath to where it was supposed to be.

But once they were able to breathe, fervour kisses were given again, and again, and Greg feared he might pass out, but the grip he had on his desk left and he wrapped his arms around Mycroft, gripping tighter as he was closer to needing air.

And oh God, tongue made it worse. Well, better, but worse. Better, because he tasted so good, worse because neither of them wanted air after the taste of them was established. They were both dissatisfied, but they both needed air before one or both of them passed out.

Gregory had a killer grip on Mycroft's waist, but he loosened after his thoughts were brought back and he realized just where he was. Mycroft had known the whole time, he just didn't care that people could have been watching. They can judge all they like, Mycroft wasn't moving anytime soon. He had even put his umbrella to lean against the desk as he propped himself to sit on it.

He had had his legs and arms wrapped around the DI as stuff happened. But they weren't in either of their homes, they were in an office, and Gregory just realized that as he went to separate himself from the MI6 man.

But he failed and Mycroft only brought him closer, "Don't leave, not yet," he pleaded and Gregory was surprised again, to hear that tone of voice coming from such a usually and well composed man. But he stayed, and placed furtive and small kisses to Mycroft's neck.

"I'll never leave you," he promised…

* * *

"Ow! Fuck!" Mary wasn't surprised.

But she said, "Oi! Watch your language!" she glared and Eve sheepishly grinned. She mumbled an apology as she put her finger to her lips.

"It hurts," she admitted as Mary rolled her eyes. Mary looked at her finger and it was already healing, as Eve's saliva would do that.

"You burnt yourself on the toaster, didn't you?" she accused. Eve nodded, blushing of embarrassment, and Mary chuckled. "It does hurt," she admitted and Ivan giggled at the face Eve was making. Eve smiled and Ivan giggled louder as Mary smiled as well.

"He finds it all so amusing," Eve shook her head and Mary simply nodded as she looked to his cute little face and his growing blond hair. Eve thought it was adorable that he had blond hair like his mum, but Mary didn't much care. He was adorable no matter what, honestly…

* * *

It was a bit weird having Aveen telling them what to do and what to gather, but she was the one with the book, and Sherlock was sitting beside her as she spouted off the four herbs they'll need. And she said a few other obvious things like: what they would need to use.

Eventually, everything was spread across the table and Sherlock was practically shaking at how complicated, yet simple this was. They were so many things he wanted to be do when he was human again (John) and so many things he didn't get to do as a Vampire. But those would be forever lost as Aveen ordered John to start grinding down some green plant and Sherlock spaced.

But when she ordered to him to cut down the one herb, he came to, "Sorry?" she smiled.

"Cut this into small pieces," and he grabbed a cutting board with a small knife and obeyed blindly. He wanted this to be over with so he could stop wondering what it's going to feel like. Will it hurt as bad as turning into a Vamp, or will it be worse?

John pushed that bowl aside and grabbed another as Sherlock slid whatever he had just cut into it. "Okay, the rest can be used as is. Sherlock do you really want to do this? We can stop now if you like?" Aveen asked and John gave the same look.

He hated pity, and slammed his fist to the table, "I'm fine and I don't need pity. Shut up," he glared at John.

"I didn't say a thing," John defended and Sherlock softened a bit.

"You didn't have to. Look, let's just do this and get it over with," he rushed and Aveen put everything needed in the middle of the table as John pulled a match from the matchbook Sherlock had kept around. It flicked across the brown on the back of the book as Sherlock loved the look of the flame dancing between John's fingers.

Aveen started the weird words of another language as she nodded to John to drop the match. Then he grabbed a knife that was still clean. Sherlock watched as he slowly cut through his skin and Sherlock couldn't help licking his lips at the sight of the drops.

The fire blazed higher and hotter as John's blood dripped into its red and orange flames. Suddenly there was a hint of blue at the bottom of the fire and John's wrist healed with a twinge of pain in the back of his head as the pink faded. He's been getting better with controlling the headaches and Sherlock simply stared as the small fire grew and Aveen finished off the incantation.

Suddenly, it melted into a bluish greenish liquid that had a hint of pink from the blood, and it swirled and stopped. John's eyes went wider as he didn't exactly expect it to be so quick. But now was the weird part.

Sherlock plucked the bowl from the middle of the table, and swirled the liquid around in his hands. John watched as he sniffed it. It smelled so weird, but he put it to his lips, and gave glances to his family. Aveen nodded as John put his hand to Sherlock's knee and squeezed.

Sherlock decided it wouldn't taste so great, but he downed it in seconds, determine to just get the taste out of his mouth. It tasted nasty, even with John's sweet blood in there. It tasted of smoke, green herbs and blood. It was sickening as he held his stomach and bent over the table. The bowl crashed in the sink as John went to grab Sherlock.

"Oh God, that's disgusting," he admitted and stuck his tongue out. John smiled and Sherlock returned it as he felt something coming around. What was… "Ah!" that hurts like hell as he doubled over and fell from his chair.

He had started digesting whatever the hell that was, and it was slowly pumping into his blood, and burned. John was on his knees as Sherlock was holding his own knees to his chest and rocking back and forth. His head hurt and each cry of pain made it worse.

Then his body started throbbing with the blood he could feel burning his veins and purifying them back to being human. He continued whimpering and rocking for several minutes as Aveen explained that it was normal.

That doesn't make it any better. Eventually, John picked Sherlock from the floor and carried him to their room, glad that he had cleaned up earlier, as Aveen followed him in. John sat on the bed and Sherlock curled back into a ball. Aveen crawled up to his other side, whispering things in his ear.

But that hurt, too and he hissed in pain as Aveen sat back and settled for putting her hand to his shoulder and telling him it will get better. He was still in a fetal position when John pulled himself up to Sherlock's back and wrapped himself around his husband.

"Sherlock, baby, it's okay," John soothed.

"How can you say that?" Sherlock winced at the pain the words caused him. "It's like a fucking jackhammer to my heart and it burns through my veins. It hurts like hell and you're gonna tell me it's fucking okay?!" John was surprised that Sherlock was swearing so loosely.

"It is okay, or it will be," Sherlock winced again and laid back down, bringing his knees to his chin as John's fingers laced through his hair and brushed his curls back from his sweating forehead. Aveen comforted Sherlock as best as she could, but he threw more profanities at her and the pain as said pain was too much to bear and he suddenly passed out.

"Sherlock?" and John heard light snoring coming from Sherlock and he smiled slightly. "How long do you think he'll be out?" John asked his daughter who was obviously concerned and wanted to help.

"I don't know," she sighed and slipped from her knees to curl up into his stomach, "but I'll be here when he wakes up," she confirmed and John smiled, almost having tears.

"Okay," he brushed her hair from her face and she nuzzled into Sherlock's chest as John settled curled around Sherlock's middle and stroking Aveen's hair as well as rubbing the small of Sherlock's back. "Aveen," she hummed as she was cuddled into a comfortable position, "I love you, and I'm sure he does, too," John confirmed and she smiled.

"I love you both…"

* * *

Mycroft was to pull Gregory back in for more kisses when his mobile rang, and it was Anthea, "Yes?" he asked and she sounded very surprised as she tried to explain.

"Sir, there's something. Um, Sherlock is um. He," Anthea couldn't get it out and Mycroft demanded for her to finish. And when she did, he couldn't believe what he heard. "Do you want to go to him?" she asked after a long silence.

"When will he wake up?" Mycroft asked instead.

She was silent for a moment, then confirmed, "We're not sure, but with the spell used, possibly tomorrow," and he considered this.

"Are you sure it'll be that long?" he had to know.

"As said before, with the power of it and the purpose, it could be even longer before his body gets used to being human again," she explained and he nodded as she was silent and awaiting an answer.

"I'll wait until tomorrow morning, then," he nodded again in confirmation. And he hung up as he slipped his phone back in his pocket. Gregory's eyes questioned as Mycroft explained that Sherlock has officially turned himself back to a human with a Wicken spell and Greg's eyes went wide.

"What? Is that even possible?" he asked. Mycroft nodded and Greg was in disbelief as he hugged Mycroft tighter. "Poor bastard, it's gotta be painful," he admitted.

Mycroft nodded, "It is," he said.

"How would you know?" Greg suddenly pulled back and looked into his lover's eyes.

"Come now, did you really think I had a clean slate? I am part of the British Government, and secrets are my specialty," he grinned and Greg was just shocked.

"You bloody clot, you could have told me!" he pounded weakly on Mycroft's chest and Mycroft laughed.

"You never asked," he said and Greg was even angrier.

"I never asked?! So?!"

"You haven't told me a thing about your past, either, Gregory," he pointed out and Greg got red in the face. Now he was embarrassed for being such an arse. That was right, Mycroft knew nothing of his past, but at least he was completely human through it all! Holy fucking fuck…

* * *

John stayed for the rest of the day, not moving, not leaving his side and Aveen did the same as they eventually fell asleep when the dark consumed them. The blond snuggled into Sherlock's neck as the brunette had relaxed and stretched out. Aveen dug her nose into his shirt and took in the smell of him, and fell asleep, listening to his heartbeat going back to human speeds.

o0o

Aveen woke first and wondered where she was, then remembered that Sherlock was cuddling around her, mumbling about John in his sleep and she smiled, accepting his embrace and John snorted as he woke.

He leaned over Sherlock's shoulder and she smiled up at him, he smiled back as Sherlock moaned. John was confused but when John's name floated by Sherlock's lips, he blushed. Aveen smirked as Sherlock whimpered and John knew what that one meant.

His blush grew deeper as Sherlock rolled over and wrapped himself around John, and groaned. John could feel the heat emanating from his husband's body, and he was a scarlet before Sherlock woke and was so confused.

"John?" he felt Aveen sit up behind him, "Aveen?" he struggled, but he finally remembered what happened yesterday and then he grinned. "John," he confirmed and he loved it as his lips made contact with John's.

Aveen coughed behind them and Sherlock smiled as they disconnected loudly and Aveen gave a disgusted noise from behind them. "Can we have breakfast before I throw up yesterday's?" she asked and John laughed.

Sherlock whined when he had to separate from John, but he was also dying to have something in his stomach. "Guess we didn't eat much yesterday, and you, mister," he booped Sherlock's nose, "you haven't eaten in weeks," he pulled at Sherlock's hand and pulled him off the bed. "Let's go, Angelo's it is," he confirmed and Aveen split to go change as Sherlock and John did the same.

"I feel weird," he said as he could feel his heartbeat beating faster than when he wasn't human. "How did I ever live with a heartbeat like that?" he asked and John shrugged.

"By the way, your brother probably knows what we did," John pointed out and as Sherlock slipped into his shoes, he pulled out his mobile from the night stand. Mmm, the night stand. Anyway, he texted his brother they were going out for breakfast and if he was going to bug Sherlock, he may as well do it there.

"Okay, let's go, I'm dying," he exaggerated and John smiled as his hand was grabbed and Sherlock drug him from the bedroom to the main room where Aveen was already starting down that stairs.

"I never thought I'd see the day you wanted to stuff your face," John smiled.

"Actually John, you have. It just wasn't food," he winked. Aveen rolled her eyes and was out the door as Sherlock followed, grabbing his coat and John doing the same. Sherlock called a cab as John reminded Aveen to stay away from the road, as she was, again, standing too close.

They climbed in and John recited an address he hadn't in a long time as Aveen cuddled in between her fathers.

o0o

"What do you want?" Sherlock asked through a bite of eggs and John had his hand connected to Sherlock's, fingers in between his. John was left handed, if you didn't know, and Sherlock being right handed helped them stay connected even while eating. Mycroft glanced at his brother, then Gregory sitting beside him.

"Can't I just make sure you're alright? After all, you did just change your life for the third time," Mycroft pointed out.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and swallowed before continuing, "And all three of those changes," he lifted John's and his hand from the table top, "I made for this man. I'll be fine as long as I have my soldier," and John blushed, hard.

Aveen smiled and continued to scoop food from her smallish plate and Mycroft simply didn't have any. Gregory was eating, though, and every now and then he would shovel food into his man's mouth. It was quite funny to watch, actually.

John used to do that, too, and Sherlock smiled, eating again. Mycroft pushed his chair back, standing, "I hope you're happy, then," he nodded and stepped from the table, taking his umbrella as it actually had start raining. Gregory abandoned his last few bites to go along and Mycroft smiled when he left with the DI intertwining their fingers.

"By the way, John, you're next," Aveen pointed at him with her fork as both men sitting beside her were confused.

Oh, "She means the healing thing. Would you like to get rid of that?" Sherlock asked as John really hadn't thought about it. "By the way, if it's even a fraction of the pain I went through, it's still worth it, John. Yes, being different was fantastic, but it really hurts to know that the person you love won't be there for you forever," Sherlock explained and John decided then and there.

"Do you have a spell that would lift the one on me?" he asked Aveen. She nodded. John decided that healing at a rapid pace wasn't worth all the pain, physically and emotionally.

Aveen swallowed the last bite of her food as Sherlock was almost finished as well. "Actually, I know how to do it without the spell book. I didn't learn how until about three days ago, though. I just never got around to it," she shrugged and John was surprised.

"Do you think it'll hurt?" John asked.

"Actually, it shouldn't," she said and Sherlock smiled. John wouldn't have to go through what he did. Aveen smiled in reassurance. "It's a spell that hurts like hell coming on, but doesn't when it leaves," and Sherlock and John's eyes widened. "What?"

"Watch your mouth," they both said and grinned at the fact that they were thinking the same thing. Sherlock finished as John was right behind him.

"I'm sorry? I seem to remember a certain someone spouting off curses after every sentence," she accused Sherlock and he acted like he didn't know what she was talking about. "Don't play with me, idiot," she scowled and pointed at Sherlock.

Sherlock chuckled as he slipped his coat back on his shoulders and John and he laid down a bill each, as they both paid for the food eaten here. Aveen and John followed his lead, and Aveen pulled the hood to hers over her hair as John flicked his collar up.

Sherlock finally had a good reason to pull his collar up to his cheekbones and John shook his head at that look of satisfaction that came across his features. Then he pulled on Sherlock's scarf and placed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek.

The detective smiled warmly as they left to the streets and Sherlock called a cab again. John was a bit nervous about what Aveen was to do when they got home. But he knew he was in good hands, as Aveen was talented and Sherlock would help if there was any pain.

o0o

"And you're sure this won't hurt?" John asked and Aveen rolled her eyes.

"It will if you don't shut up and let me do this," she raised her small fist and he rolled his eyes. Sherlock smirked at the mouth she had developed from him and despite John's arguments he had quite a mouth on him, too. She earned it from both of them, honestly.

Sherlock had his hand again and John was relaxed as Aveen was standing in front of him, while he and Sherlock sat on the couch. She placed her small hands at his temples and spread her fingers across his cheeks as her eyes rolled back into her head and she focused on this.

John flinched when he could feel the energy being pulled from his body and she smiled as the last of it was in her hands, and Sherlock's eyes widened as his grip on John's hand was deadly. He looked to Aveen and she curled her fists with the crimson surrounding them.

But she shook her head as her hands flew up and the red faded quickly and hit the ceiling, burning away and it even left a puff of smoke in the air and they all laughed as John was on Sherlock, pushing him into the cushions of the couch.

Their lips met and Aveen simply left, and when her footsteps stopped and they heard her door close, John traced Sherlock's lips with his tongue. "Now the marks won't leave, John," Sherlock suggested against John's lips and he groaned.

"We can't do this while Aveen is awake, and could hear us, as you're so responsive," he teased. Sherlock rolled his eyes and went back to snogging John and then there was a light knock to the doorframe.

"Yoo-hoo, boys?" Mrs. Hudson asked and she stepped into the main room.

John shot up, sitting with his legs crossed and Sherlock smiled as he looked to her. "Yes?" they both asked, John blushing.

"Sorry for interrupting, but I made some pie, and I was wondering if you would like some? I don't know why, really, I just did," she explained and John smiled.

"Still hungry, Sherlock?" he teased and poked at Sherlock's side.

The detective smiled as Aveen was down the stairs, "Did someone say pie?" and they all laughed but she simply grinned.

"Yes, would you like some?" Mrs. Hudson offered and they all rushed down to her flat for this pie. Mrs. Hudson really had no idea why she had made it, she just did. Maybe she knew the boys would want some? She didn't know.

But as they surrounded her small table, making noises of compliments and Sherlock had some dripping down his chin. Mrs. Hudson giggled as Aveen chuckled and John smiled. "Sherlock, you have," he rolled his eyes and gave up, licking it from his face and kissing the corner of his mouth.

Sherlock smiled through his food and John returned it as their landlady blushed at how adorable they were. Aveen was too distracted with the creamy apples and cinnamon in her mouth as she mumbled something that was incoherent.

But Mrs. Hudson smiled and thanked her for her compliments anyway. Life was good, it was slightly back to normal, and it was fine that way. But it wasn't long before Sherlock was complaining about not having a good case.

They all laughed as Sherlock just shrugged, "What? I'm bored now. John, get me a case?" he begged and John just smiled, kissing his detective.

"Of course," he confirmed and Sherlock grinned, kissing John again…

* * *

**One more chapter, and I think I'll be spent on this story... But, reviews? Ideas if you wish for me to continue this past chapter twenty? **


	20. Chapter 20

Twenty: Just Us And The Darkness

Sherlock was _now _complaining that the case wasn't good enough and that he wanted more food! John shoved his hand over Sherlock's mouth, "Shut! Up! Dear God, could you be any more annoying?!" as he walked out to the kitchen.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and toed his shoes from his feet as he was behind his husband, "Sorry, it's just that I'm so bored, and Aveen's awake," he started to whisper, "so I can't make love to you," he complained quietly. John's eyes widened and he blushed.

Sherlock really had a way with that voice of his, "Sherlock, I'm ordering dinner, and then we can eat, and you can do what you like to me," he smiled and kissed Sherlock lightly.

Sherlock grinned, "That actually sounds like fun," and Aveen flipped on the telly. She hadn't watched telly in forever, and she settled into her usual spot at the end of the couch.

o0o

Dinner wasn't the best, but Sherlock was hungry, and he ate anyway. Not eating for about two weeks was bad, and he now vowed to eat at least one thing a day. He couldn't stand being hungry anymore.

So as everyone finished, Aveen disappeared for a shower, and John and Sherlock grinned at that word. 'Shower'… it sounded nice, but it would have to wait. Besides, John wanted to have some fun before they jumped into the shower.

Aveen came out with dripping hair and a brush, and John scooped her up as he handed the brush to Sherlock, "Do you want to try it?" he said as he turned her to where her hair was towards Sherlock.

Sherlock gripped the brush harder and nodded, "I guess I could. Don't you always start from the bottom, John?" and he grinned at how dirty that sounded.

John blushed as he realized, too, that that sounded so wrong, but he nodded, "Yes, I do," and he grinned. Sherlock nodded, knowing their conversation had become double sided as he started with slow strokes to her long raven black hair.

It was soon finished and she smiled, giving her parents a kiss each before heading back to bed, with John following. He tucked the blanket under her and smiled, giving her a kiss to the cheek and one to her forehead before standing from the edge of the bed.

"Good night, darling," she smiled and nodded as he stepped out of the room. but Sherlock pushed past John and sat on the bed himself. He repeated John's actions, and said something similar.

"Night. Sweet dreams for a sweet girl," and she blushed as he stepped out to a surprised John. "Please, John, she deserves more than that as a thanks for the things she's done to help us," he reasoned and John nodded, smiling.

He closed the door lightly and slammed his lips to Sherlock's, happy that he did care. Sherlock did love Aveen and John, and he wasn't a heartless psychopath. Not that John ever thought such a thing, but now it could be proven that Sherlock had a heart, and it beat against John's palm as he rested his hand to Sherlock's chest.

"I love you," John sighed and looked into those eyes.

"I love you more," Sherlock teased and John took advantage, saying more.

"I love you most," he said cheekily, and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Not even," and John smiled as their lips connected again. They had stumbled, _a lot_, getting to their bedroom, but they didn't want to leave each other's lips, ever again. And they did eventually make it through the door as it was slammed shut with John's body.

John was fine with being dominated tonight, because he wanted Sherlock all over him, and inside him. And Dear God, these kisses are making it hotter and harder to breathe. But he didn't care as Sherlock rubbed his thigh to John's crotch, he hissed in pleasure and almost passed out rom the lack of air.

He needed air, but that didn't mean he couldn't be busy doing something else. They parted and John rested his head on Sherlock's chest as his hands went to Sherlock's trousers. He slid the button from the hole in his trousers and zipped the zipper slowly as he caught his breath again.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as his lips were hungry for more of John and he stepped out of his trousers, working on John's jeans. And soon the jeans were gone as shirts and socks joined them on the floor and John grinned at the mess they were making, but the love will be so much more.

They landed on the bed and John's hips were pressed to Sherlock's as they both moaned from the heat of the friction, and just the heat of this moment. They really hoped Aveen was asleep by now, or this would be awkward to explain tomorrow morning.

But right now, all John could focus on was the heat of the member being pressed to his and how he wished it was skin to skin. He couldn't take it anymore as he slid both of their pants off and pushed Sherlock to the sheets, rubbing them together in a sweet rhythm and Sherlock groaned as John sucked in a breath through his teeth.

He let go of this breath in a moaning sigh as Sherlock gripped both of them in hand, and pumped once, twice and decided to be mean by stopping and just leaving his hand there to tease. John huffed at this, but he gave Sherlock kisses and tongue anyway.

God, he hadn't tasted Sherlock in so long, he was beginning to think he wouldn't be able to taste that again. But he tasted so sweet and John? John was like a drug that Sherlock hadn't had in forever, and he was about to overdose.

Sherlock's hand squeezed hard before he let go and John gasped as Sherlock's arm stretched and he dug into the drawer and before John could pretest, he popped open the cap. But John had an idea that would tease Sherlock so much.

He grinned and licked at Sherlock's fingers and took the bottle in between his teeth, Sherlock motioned for him to squeeze and he did as Sherlock's fingers were coated. He spit out the plastic, and his mouth was on Sherlock's as he was right. Sherlock was aching and he could feel it as Sherlock's fingertips teased at John's entrance.

One digit slid in and John moaned against Sherlock's tongue and Sherlock was pleased as he kissed, but was focused on another part of John's body. John stored the flavour of Sherlock in his mind and vowed he'd never forget it, and another finger was added.

He groaned against Sherlock and rubbed their cocks together as Sherlock was barely hanging on. But John kept him here, instead of boiling over the edge. He had calmed enough to keep up as his fingers curled in just the right spot.

"Ah! Sherlock…" John shivered as he could feel all of it, and it wasn't being numbed by Sherlock's bite. Because there was no bite, and John had to say, he was happy he could actually feel everything as Sherlock's fingers did it again. The electricity crackled as Sherlock's fingers spread as wide as he dared and eased from John.

John's moan mirrored his shivers and writhing as Sherlock used what was left of the lubricant to slick himself up, and John almost came on the spot at the sight of Sherlock enjoying himself as well, and as much. John's tongue flicked over Sherlock's lips and Sherlock didn't even bother hiding them as his own joined John's.

John's mouth enclosed their tongues in his own mouth as Sherlock's cock was rubbing against his entrance. "Sherlock," he whispered.

"Mmm, yes, John?" he purred.

John's hands landed upon Sherlock's chest as he demanded, "Make love to me, please?" Sherlock grinned at the fact that John was asking nicely. He almost never... actually, he never had before.

"And what if I refuse?" Sherlock teased and rubbed his head across John's entrance and over that spot between his bollocks and his arse.

"Then I'll have to rape you," he suggested and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"At this point, it wouldn't be rape, darling," he said gently and John squeezed at Sherlock's nipple. "Ow! That's not fair!" he whined.

"Fuck me or I turn the tables," he threatened and Sherlock suddenly got all flirty again.

"As you wish, love," and he pushed inside of the doctor panting on top of him. His hands steadied John's wriggling hips and held him to Sherlock's cock. The back of John's wrist went to his mouth as his head rolled back and he could actually fucking _feel_ this.

It wasn't numbed, blurred, but memorable, like their first two times. He could feel everything. He could feel Sherlock expanding against his inner walls and he moaned when Sherlock started moving slightly.

Even the slightest of moves made John simply _feel_, and it was better than any other time he had had sex with Sherlock. Even when it was the other way round, he couldn't feel this much. John _screamed _Sherlock's name as he brushed over John's prostate. He was pleased, and he didn't even wonder what was so different, as he could feel it, too.

And that was just it, he could _feel_ John around him instead of being partially high from the blood he used to take. He thrust up harder just to hear John scream his name and was successful as John couldn't even get Sherlock's name fully out before he was subjected to howling in pleasure once more.

John's name was put to good use as it was whispered and shouted from Sherlock's lips and John was pleased as he started to finally be able to know what he was doing. He started rocking his hips with Sherlock's fingertips definitely leaving bruises. He didn't care, all he wanted was to never stop this… this _feeling_ of Sherlock in him, loving him in more ways than one.

Sherlock couldn't take it anymore, and he rolled John on his back as his teeth sunk into John's skin. John gasped and moaned as Sherlock had slammed into him on the way down. And Sherlock's teeth on him was actually amazing when he could feel it.

This was so much better than when Sherlock was a Vampire. He loved feeling everything, and Sherlock returned the love as he saw that luckily, he hadn't drawn blood. But he kissed over the spot that would obviously be bruised tomorrow.

Neither of them cared as John's arms wrapped around Sherlock's neck and the friction of the their bodies being rubbed together with each trust took care of John as they were both dripping. Again, John could feel the hot liquid, instead of being numb and dumb to the sensation.

Each time Sherlock thrust into him, he felt that hot pleasure drip and he moaned. Sherlock couldn't help it as he changed their position again, by bringing John down on top of him while he was on his knees and John spread his legs wider, to give Sherlock more room to find his sweet spot again.

Sherlock's arms wrapped around John's waist and held fast as he thrust up faster and harder, and all the while he was searching. But when he did finally find that one spot, John's moaning came to the loudest scream as he couldn't hold it anymore.

Each time Sherlock had moved inside him and it rubbed his cock in between them, it had brought him closer to a sensual climax, and when Sherlock finally found that cloud that let loose lightning, like the thunder that followed, John rode over his orgasm.

Hearing his name come from John like that, that loud and he felt John take hold of his cock with himself as he was so tight, Sherlock gave in and came with the last few thrusts. John moaned and panted as he could feel the hot and sweet liquid oozing and spurting from his lover.

"Sherlock," he panted and said over, and over, "Sherlock," and he almost passed out from the power of the orgasm that now left him. He was _actually_ exhausted. And he had to say, this was _so_ much better than the first time.

He blushed when Sherlock's head was resting on his shoulder and he was repeating John's name as well. John made Sherlock look to him, and his eyes were shining in the darkness of the room, and John smiled, his eyes illuminating his face as he kissed Sherlock for all he was worth.

They poured their heart and soul into this one kiss, and it was hot enough that the breath they had gotten back was gone again. And as tongue was added, it was still slow and John sighed, content with just possibly staying here instead of going anywhere tomorrow morning.

Sherlock was his and vice versa, so why should they have to give this up for something so stupid? But when they disconnected, they realized that they hadn't moved at all, Sherlock was even still inside John as they chuckled.

And as John fell over on the pillows, they burst into laughing and they tried to stop, but when Sherlock looked to John, they started up again. "Why… are we laughing?" Sherlock asked and John shook his head, gathering it before he spoke.

"I have no idea, but what I do know," he rolled over on top of Sherlock, "is that what we thought was a good shagging has been redefined. Yeah?" he dipped in to kiss Sherlock.

Sherlock kissed back as he answered, "Oh hell yes," and John smirked, kissing him again. "By the way, we should climb into the shower, yes?" Sherlock asked and John nodded. They both grinned as John stepped off of the bed and tried to stand up.

But he fell back into Sherlock, who had sat up. Why couldn't he stand? Oh yeah, well, a hellishly good shag will do that to a man. He shook his head as he tried to stand again, but this time, he was brought back down by Sherlock.

Sherlock held John in his arms and put kisses to his neck where he had bitten down. He was basically apologizing for what he had done, and he looked to John's hips and surely enough, they were little red spots where there to be bruises tomorrow. His fingers brushed back over them and John realized what Sherlock was doing.

"Sherlock," the brunette hummed against the blond's skin as he eyed the marks, "Those don't matter," he said as he turned back on Sherlock and kissed him senseless. "If anything, it shows people that I'm yours, and no one else can have me," he suggested.

Sherlock shook his head and his curls bounced as John ruffled them. "But I-" he tried. John cut him off with a kiss.

"No, I don't want to hear it. What I want to hear is the shower water running," he grinned and Sherlock smirked. John stood again and Sherlock swatted his bum.

John walked through the small hall with Sherlock's hands on his waist as a guide in the darkness of the flat. But once the lights were on, he could actually see and started teasing John again. Kissing his neck, and nipping at his shoulder.

John barely got the water on before Sherlock grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer as kisses were also given to John's scar. And instead of hating the attention on it, John loved having Sherlock kiss and lick at his once was wound. "Ready to show me why you were so responsive this time?" knowing what Sherlock was asking, John smiled.

He was still aching and a bit tired, but he could definitely return the favour. As they climbed in under the water, John pressed Sherlock to the wall, kissing his neck and threading his fingers through his hair. He pulled on the curls as their lips met under the water.

"John," John hummed on Sherlock's throat and he closed his eyes at the pleasure as he continued, "I think it would be really romantic if we got to kiss in the rain," he admitted.

John guessed that the shower had brought his idea upon Sherlock. So he replied, saying, "I think so, too. Hope it rains tomorrow?" he asked. Sherlock nodded, "But in the meantime, this will have to do," he reasoned as his lips were on Sherlock's again and their bodies rubbed together again.

"You know what I haven't done in a long time?" Sherlock asked as he stepped away from the wall and instead pressed John to it. John didn't question as Sherlock's kisses became lower on his body and Sherlock sunk to his knees.

His hands rested upon John's chest and he circled his fingertips around John's nipples as the brunette teased the blond with kisses to his hips and thighs. The water washed over John's chest and made everything slide easier and it felt so good having Sherlock's hands on him and his mouth, oh God!

Sherlock had skipped the teasing kisses on his cock and just took half in his mouth. He cherished the taste of John's skin on his tongue as his teeth scraped at John's cock and he pulled off. Now was when he gave kisses and teasing licks.

Oh, John saw what Sherlock was doing, and he had to admit that it was working. John's hips jerked as Sherlock took him in again, but Sherlock's hand was on his hip and held it to the wall, as his other had fingers that were still teasing and pulling at John's perked nipple.

But John let Sherlock take control as he was simply feeling, as he did earlier, and with this, he swore it was better, too. But then Sherlock was standing and pulling John from the wall. "I want you to love me" he said and John nodded, already hard again and he could feel Sherlock. So he wasn't the only who loved their husband's voice.

He grinned as he was put to the floor and Sherlock was kneeling over him, letting water droplets bounce off and around them as their groins rubbed together again. This was never going to get old, and they didn't know why, but it wouldn't.

"John," he teased as his hand left John's body and he slid it behind himself. John watched with stars in his eyes as Sherlock's face flushed in seconds and he thrust a finger into himself. "Gimme," he demanded and John gave him his hand.

He drug John's hand around himself and plunged John's finger in with his own. He moaned when John just realized what Sherlock was doing and he participated, pushing Sherlock's digit to his inner wall and he explored as found that one spot.

Sherlock moaned loudly as John's name was whispered and he smiled as he curled his finger around Sherlock's and brought both of them to his sweetest spot again and Sherlock screamed as he could feel John and he could feel himself and he had never had the chance to do this before. In all his experience with John, this was interesting as John pulled their fingers from Sherlock.

"John," he wriggled and John's cock was pressed against his entrance. "Don't make me beg," he said as John smirked.

"Now that you mention it," John ran his fingers through Sherlock's now soaked hair.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but buried his head into John's shoulder as he begged, "Please. I want you," no, "I need you," he fixed that sentence and John was slightly pleased.

He pulled Sherlock's body closer and rubbed his cock in between them, "Not good enough," John teased. He pushed Sherlock to the floor as his knees spread and he brought Sherlock's knees to his shoulders. "Tell me what you want, be specific, Sherlock," he purred that name and Sherlock was getting desperate.

"Please, I want to feel you like you felt me, I want your hands on me as you make love to me, please…?" he begged and John gave in, slipping in as his fingers dug into Sherlock's thighs. Sherlock sighed and brought John closer to his whole body.

He wrapped his legs around John's hips and pushed him in further as their lips and tongues connected, and he moaned. He took John's fingers in between his own as they wrapped around Sherlock's cock.

"John," he panted, knowing why John had been so responsive, "harder. John... more," he breathed. John's hips snapped forward.

"Sh," he demanded and caught Sherlock's mouth with his own. But John didn't have the control that Sherlock had, and he pounded into the man under him. Making him moan and occasionally scream John's name as John continued.

John's fingers grew tighter as he thrust and timed the pumps with each one. Which, in turn, means they were pretty fast and amazingly hard as Sherlock screamed. This was a bit uncomfortable, as he was used to having a mattress under him, but it was well worth it.

He could feel John taking advantage, slipping into him and almost slipping out with each thrust and he was just as bad as John was with the noises. Maybe even a little worse, but John was pleased as he hummed Sherlock's name and planted kisses on Sherlock's neck.

These planted kisses grew into flowers of sensation as they could feel the end coming closer with each thrust. It was interesting, as John and Sherlock panted and chanted each other's names, they both came so much closer to screaming.

John got tight in his belly and he could feel himself coming so close. Sherlock then decided that he hadn't had John's mouth on him in such a long time. He held off of coming as John did, and he was confused as he only heard a yelp in pleasure from Sherlock.

"How..?" he wondered as he sat back on his knees and Sherlock stood as best as he could, John's shoulders supporting him. But when he saw Sherlock standing, he hummed as he pushed his face closer and pulled Sherlock's groin closer for kisses.

His licked up and down Sherlock's shaft before taking him in without warning. Sherlock shivered as John took all of him. John hummed and gulped at Sherlock dripping and this was what Sherlock wanted. John's hands tightened around Sherlock's arse as his tongue got harder and his teeth started teasing as Sherlock finally climaxed.

John swallowed and was satisfied at the taste of Sherlock as he struggled to stand up straight, or at all. "Come on, Sherlock. Let's get us cleaned up, yeah?" he asked, and Sherlock nodded, still recovering.

John laughed as Sherlock leaned into him as he squirted shampoo into his sweaty curls. They hadn't made love twice in one night in a long time, let alone it being that good. Sherlock flicked back to the memories he was now storing, and he would have been hard again just remembering it, but he was spent. John's fingers almost put him to sleep standing.

But John finished cleaning both of them as he practically drug Sherlock back to their room. He collapsed on the bed and stayed awake long enough to hear John slide in behind him and whisper the three best words in the universe and Sherlock returned them as he turned round to face his lover.

"Please let every time be that good," he added and John smiled, kissing his husband.

"I sure would hope so, yeah?" and Sherlock nodded, only making his fatigue even worse. He fell asleep, holding John and John gave in as he finally realized just how exhausting shagging your spouse, let alone Sherlock, really can be…

o0o

Aveen was bubbly as she skipped out to the kitchen. Then she looked to John and Sherlock, and decided to just walk away slowly and settle on the couch. The shorter man had decided to climb on top of the tall brunette and was kissing him feverishly.

They had added tongue when Sherlock heard Aveen, but he didn't care as he kept going and John smiled when she had decided to just wait it out. She was sitting there thinking why last night hadn't been enough.

Oh yes, she heard them. Only a bit, but it was enough that she was slightly scarred and then seeing that, nope. She was good. She'd wait. The last sound of separation and John climbed off of Sherlock as he sat in the other chair and sipped at his abandoned coffee and Sherlock called Aveen in, saying it was safe.

She took her seat, and Sherlock saw that she was already dressed as she was eying the two men. Were they going to start again, or was it actually safe? Sherlock smirked at John who blushed and Aveen decided it was fine as she settled.

"Excited to get back to school?" John asked, the blush fading as he sipped at his cup. Sherlock did the same and she nodded.

"Not as excited as I should be, I guess. But," she shrugged, "better than being here with you two," she admitted and John looked to Sherlock past his cup and Sherlock rose a brow. Sherlock chuckled as he placed his cup down on the table.

"What with two people who love each other?" he asked innocently.

"Yeah, in many more ways than one, and it's awkward," she explained as Sherlock and John laughed. John almost choked on his coffee, but he managed and Sherlock just shook his curls.

"Speaking of that, sorry about last night," he apologized and she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, you should be," she scowled and crossed her arms over her chest.

And she got redder in anger and in embarrassment as Sherlock added, "But it was too fun to stop," and she gave up, stomping back to the main room. John blushed so hard his whole face was flushed as he followed Aveen.

"I hope you know, he's just being an arse," John explained.

"I know, but it's _awkward_," she blurted and John nodded, agreeing as he heard Sherlock silently laughing. Sherlock had no awkward subject, though. And if someone asked, he'd probably tell them everything about Sherlock and John's sex life. He was just like that, and John had no idea how or why.

"Well, we're going to get dressed and I'm going to make you a small breakfast, then we're walking you to school," he stroked her hair from her face as she calmed. "Sound good?" he asked in confirmation.

She nodded, "Just make Dad keep his sodding mouth shut," she demanded. John swatted at her shoulder.

"What did we tell you about your language?" he warned. She rolled her eyes and John could see how she was far older than she looked and really was. She was already acting thirteen and mouthy. He hoped this wouldn't transfer to her teacher(s) as she got older.

Sherlock had quit grinning when they walked back into the kitchen and Sherlock followed John back the hall to the mess they hadn't bothered to clean from last night. It was why John had dressed quickly and asked Sherlock to please clean this up.

When Sherlock refused, "Come on, you brat. You never even help, now you can do it," he pointed lazily as he slipped his shoes over his socked feet.

Sherlock complained, "But-"

"Shut up, Sherlock," he warned, "and do what you were asked for once," he demanded and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I did do what you asked, last night," he looked to John as he was bent over to pick up part of their mess. John couldn't look and he instead stared into those eyes.

"Sherlock, that was last night and we both participated vigorously, therefore it doesn't count," he explained and Sherlock huffed, standing up again and dropping their clothes in the hamper before walking over to remove their sheets, they still smelled of sex and them.

John walked to the kitchen again as Sherlock finished what he was asked to do and he started smelling oatmeal and toast from the kitchen. Sherlock followed the smell and found three bowls sitting at the table and two were occupied.

John gestured to the chair that wasn't being used and Sherlock smiled, taking this spot and eating for the once he would today. Aveen finished before they did and grabbed her coat and backpack as they did finally finish. They followed and grabbed their coats as they were out the door and on the streets.

John checked his watch, and they were actually on time with this as he grabbed Aveen's hand, and Sherlock took the other. They repeated what they did every time as they lifted her feet from the sidewalk for a few seconds and she giggled lightly as they hit the ground again.

No matter how old she was, she would always enjoy that, and her fathers knew this, which is why they then encouraged her to use her abilities as they would pretend to do this. It actually worked as they could feel that they didn't have to lift her anymore and no one questioned as their hands followed and she was on the ground again.

"This is fun," she giggled and did it again as John smiled and Sherlock grinned. Soon they reached the flowers and even sooner was the front of the school, and she said goodbye, kissing their cheeks as she was determined to do every time, and even Sherlock blushed. She disappeared and there was that woman again.

But she didn't make any remarks, she simply apologized. "I'm sorry I misjudged you," she bowed her head slightly. "You daughter is lovely," she blushed in embarrassment as Sherlock and John thanked her. She smiled and walked away with her friends.

Sherlock looked to John, "Looks like her friends talked some sense into her?" Sherlock suggested.

"Either that or it was our wedding in the fucking newspaper," he suggested and Sherlock wagged his finger at John.

"Do I need to repeat myself about the language used in this family? We need to quit that," he explained and John rolled his eyes.

"Fuck you," he said deliberately. They walked back home and reached the flowers when they stopped and Sherlock replied.

"As much as I would love to have you do that, your language isn't clean enough for it," he stuck his nose in the air and John shook his head in disbelief.

"Fine. So instead of saying, 'I want to fuck you hard into the mattress', I would say, 'I would like to penetrate you on the sheets of our bed'?" he asked and Sherlock glared as people started to stare with dropping mouths.

It was funny as Sherlock played along, "Yes. And instead of saying, 'I want to fuck your mouth' I would replace it with, ' I want your tongue and teeth one me until I ejaculate into your throat,'" he replied and John blushed not only in his face, but a little in his pans and Sherlock could see that.

"You really have to stop, people are staring," John noticed. he also noticed that it started to drizzle and soon it was full on raining.

"You started it," Sherlock chuckled.

"And now I'm finishing it, shut up," and he pushed Sherlock to the grass as kisses were put to his lips. "I still love you," John hummed.

"I will always love you," he countered and John rolled his eyes, simply saying nothing as kisses were placed on Sherlock's lips and John hummed, content.

Then he realized, "Sherlock," he hummed a bit in confusion as John pointed to the sky, "it's raining," he said, and Sherlock smiled.

"That it is, now kiss me again," he demanded and Sherlock's lips were on John's again and they both sighed, completely happy with the way things had turned out...

* * *

**So yeah, should I end it on that note? Or continue into something else? Reviews? Suggestions? **


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